


The Art of Lore

by starhawk2005



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, F/M, Het, Jane!Domme (Ch 6), Smut, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Weddings, Worldbuilding, clone!sex, here we go again, non-penetrative snake!porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to the ‘A Light in the Dark’ series. Thanos is dead, and Loki prepares to live a peaceful life with Jane…but the universe, as so often is the case, has other plans for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - All the Exalted Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all, except for the occasional OC.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Banner made by the lovely and talented story_weaver.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And things begin to go awry...

A total and absolute sense of helplessness frays at Loki’s already tightly-wound nerves.

How is it that he is back to experiencing this _again,_ he wonders. It is all too familiar – and entirely _unwelcome_ – to him thanks to The Other and Thanos, and what they had done to Jane.

With both of those accursed entities finally dead Loki had been convinced that Jane’s life would never be seriously threatened, not from that day forward. That he would never be required to ever experience that level of sheer terror ever again, or to have to endure that sickening lurch in his stomach at the knowledge that she was in danger, and he unable to race to her aid. 

But looking down at Jane’s pale, frightened face, Loki now knows these beliefs to be mere fancies. 

The warm light of an Asgardian day, entirely at odds with the coils of dread that squeeze around Loki’s chest, slants through the windows of the healing rooms. The bars of honeyed brightness spill across the stone floor, as well as the foot of the bed Jane is lying on.

Her cold fingers wrap around his, tugging his attention back to his wife’s face. “Loki,” Jane says firmly, and he can tell she is making her best attempt to put on a brave face, “It’s going to be OK. We’ve been through worse, right?”

He barks a harsh sound that doesn’t even approach laughter. “You are as poor a liar as always, my Jane.” Loki shakes his head, eyes straying back to the door of the room. Where, by blighted Yggdrasil, _is_ Eir?

“Loki,“ Jane tries again, and while her tone would sound soothing to anyone else’s ear, he can hear the strain underneath. 

Though Loki knows it is entirely unfair of him, his anger crests and spills over, turning itself against her. “‘Worse’, you say?” he growls, glaring angrily down at her. “How so? The Other and Thanos, fiendish as they were, posed threats that were _known_ to me. Their magics were a force that I could understand and take the measure of. That I could potentially counter with my own spell-craft. But _this_ -” He motions to her body, shielded from his gaze at the moment by bedsheets and a fur throw. 

Despite his harsh words Jane’s expression does not change. She is still frightened but also still working for calm. As always, she seeks to understand, rather than to give in to her fears of the unknown.

As ever, she is his little warrior. 

Loki shakes his head again, his voice now falling to a pained whisper. “The thrice-damned Convergence takes you from me, deposits you in some unknown corner of Yggdrasil – or perhaps into a Realm in an entirely different Worlds Tree, who can say? – and I could not find or reclaim you until _it_ chose to release you. That was… _difficult_ enough, but now-” His words end, his unspoken fears left dangling in the air between them.

He is a God and yet he cannot _see_. Something is within his mate, something that has managed to keep itself hidden from him ever since Jane stumbled through the random portal and was lost to him for long hours. _Or perhaps it’s lain within her even longer_ , he broods. _One last_ gift _from Thanos?_

Either way, now this _something_ is speeding through her veins like a poison and siphoning off her life energies. But despite his best efforts and all of his magic, his _power_ , he can learn nothing of it.

If Loki tries to touch this mysterious force, to assess it, it rebuffs his spell as easily as a horse’s tail swipes away a fly, spinning the threads of his magic away from itself and Jane in tangled skeins. He has not yet even attempted to draw it out from her; he is despairingly certain he knows what the outcome of _that_ will be. 

He is a God, a master of magic unparalleled, and it means entirely nothing here. 

His sole recourse is to hope that the healers of Asgard, far more versed in curative magics than he (his one prior dramatic act to pull Jane from death’s grasp aside), can glean what manner of power is living under Jane’s skin, and find some safe means to rid her of it.

Loki’s thoughts stutter to a halt as he glimpses movement at the door from the corner of his eye. One of Eir’s fellow healers. _At last._

The slender dark-haired woman glides into the room, hands clasped in front of her. Loki can’t recall her name, and does not truly care to at this moment.

She pauses by the side of the bed, her head bowed. “My Prince, my Princess. Eir will be with us shortly. In the meantime, she bade me to tell you that she, and the other Elder healers, thus far can deduce little. Except that this foreign magic is powerful, like nothing they have ever encountered before-”

His control over his temper eroding quickly, Loki rages at her. “This is already known to us, foolish wench!”

The woman recoils slightly before she manages to regain her composure. Were he feeling more charitable he would give her credit her for that.

“It also appears that this power is defending the Princess from things it deems to be threats. Which includes the healers and their magic, apparently.” The woman pauses as if she expects Loki to commiserate or express empathy, but he only glowers, still waiting for this personage to utter something _useful_.

It is Jane, as it often seems to be, who expresses the appropriate concern for her fellow entities. “Oh my God, did it hurt anyone?” Her eyes widen, guilt clouding them. Loki has observed her lose consciousness more than once after the unknown force has revealed itself; it is no wonder she cannot remember what transpired when the healers attempted to examine her.

Before Loki can hasten to insist to Jane that it is most certainly _not_ her fault, the healer reassures her. “Minimally, my Lady. We are, after all, _healers_ ,” the woman points out, smiling slightly. Then she turns her attention primarily to Loki. “This means that the Elders cannot employ their usual seeking-spells to discover the full nature of this force beyond a few obvious characteristics, such as its ability to change its nature from energy to solid to liquid, and back. Hence the lack of information we can provide at this point.”

_ Useless, the lot of them _ , Loki snarls to himself. Aloud, he continues his diatribe. “Have you _anything_ to tell me which I do not already know? If not, be off with you!” 

“Loki!” The twin admonishments come to his ears. One from Jane on the bed, the other from Eir, who has just entered the room. She motions to the other healer, who scurries from the room just a little too quickly. Evidently Loki will make no new friends among the healers this day. 

“Stay your impatience, Loki,” the Elder healer instructs him. Eir is one of the few non-royals who has never been cowed by his outbursts. “We are not at an impasse yet; there remain some tomes in the Royal Library which we have yet to consult. But our seeking magics did manage to discover one thing, which I thought you would wish to know as soon as possible.” She pauses, and Loki can read nothing from her face. _Is it good news, or ill?_

“Your wife is with child,” Eir continues at last, a small smile surfacing on her thin lips. “Congratulations my prince, my princess.”

Loki stares fixedly at Eir, cold filling his veins one by one.

_ Impossible.  _

“No,” he gasps before he can stop himself. Then he takes hold of the welling rage inside him with both hands. “Leave us,” he orders the healer. _I do not want Eir as witness to this, this…_ his thoughts fail him.

“Loki-” Eir protests, anxiety furrowing her brow as she realizes this is not welcome news to him. 

“LEAVE US!” he all but screams, and mercifully Eir backs hurriedly away and out of the room, though not before giving Loki a look which suggests she may go in search of his mother.

Loki seals the door behind Eir with his strongest spell, then paces agitatedly. 

Jane is sitting up on the bed, her expression as stunned as he is sure his is.

“How could this happen?” he rasps, though the query is not directed at her. “That spell has never failed me before. My seed should never have quickened within you…” _Plainly_ _I must be cursed!_

They have only just barely started to gain some sense of normalcy, of mastery over their own lives (or at least, Loki has), and now not only is Jane in the grip of some unknown force, but-

Loki’s boot-heels grind on the floor as he comes to a halt at the furthest point in the room from the bed and its occupant. Yet another familiar sensation, this time of _revulsion_ , births itself from his warring emotions. 

What has he unwittingly planted in her womb? _An abomination_ , a voice which sounds unpleasantly like Odin’s whispers within his mind. _Half human, and half_ monster.

_ No _ , Loki demurs, his jaw and fists clenching. Jane is reaching out towards him, speaking to him, but her words cannot penetrate the storm of loathing and dread in his heart. 

He had fatuously believed that the present situation could not become more dire than it already was. Yes, certainly that was witless of him.

Now he stands as if paralyzed, staring unseeing and unhearing at his love. He feels as if the universe is tilting dizzily on its axis, preparing to throw him off screaming into the cold blackness between Yggdrasil’s branches. 

This is surely his punishment for daring for a handful of moments to allow himself to feel happiness, to believe that somehow his future might contain some small measure of joy. 

Not only is Jane’s life at risk, but something horrific – created by _him_ – has taken root inside her.

And he, the self-proclaimed _God_ , stands powerless.

 

 **Reviews are always appreciated, and help me keep up my motivation to continue this fic**  
 


	2. By Beer Excited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Loki have their ‘official’ Earth nuptials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all, except for the occasional OC.
> 
>  
> 
> Banner made by the wonderful tizronell!

_ Four months earlier: _

Jane is becoming slightly misty-eyed. Which is completely ridiculous, given this is the second marriage ceremony she’s been though in the space of just over a month. Well technically the _third_ , she supposes, if you count Loki’s elopement trickery, which she’s still not sure she does.

_ Maybe it’s just something about weddings _ , she hypothesizes, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear them as she smiles shyly and glances around at her audience. It’s the second one she’s had to face while wearing a wedding dress within the last twenty-five days, because only a week and a half after their elopement had been revealed to everyone in the Greater Feasting Hall, a ‘small’ official Asgardian wedding taken place after all, mostly because Frigga had insisted on it (and on planning every aspect of it, which Jane had been perfectly happy to let her do). 

Jane had wondered from time-to-time since whether having that public ceremony had in fact originally been Loki’s idea. Not only to appease his mother, who while overjoyed at the news of their elopement, had complained about being cheated out of planning a ‘grand wedding’. But also to piss off Odin, who looked like he had bitten into something sour when Frigga had informed the masses of the date and time of their formal wedding.

Not that Jane really cared what Odin thought. 

Their ‘small’ Asgardian wedding had taken place in the massive golden Great Hall, which had been packed wall-to-wall with bodies. Practically all of Asgard had been there as far as Jane could tell, and she knew Loki well enough to read the quickly-hidden look of surprise he’d worn when they first saw the size of their cheering audience _. Apparently he’s not as unpopular in Asgard as he thought he was. Or not any more, anyway. Not since Thanos._

Jane has to smile to herself now as she remembers all the particular marriage traditions and details that Frigga had explained to her. 

Of course it was too much to expect that one such tradition would be a plain, white wedding dress, which of course Jane would have preferred. No, they’d braided her hair with ribbons adorned with gems (dark green and black stones, of course) and put this odd half-breastplate thing on her, on top of a golden dress with skirts so voluminous that Jane could no longer see her feet. She thought it was ridiculous and grand at the same time, if that was possible, though naturally Loki looked elegant and totally at-home in lightly (for him) armoured dark green leather edged with gold.

Another tradition was that they’d married on a Friday, the ‘proper’ day for weddings on Asgard. That hadn’t been too weird, but some other rituals had been far more bizarre, like Jane being expected to carry a sword into the ceremony (how awkward that had felt!) and exchanging it for another sword that Loki was carrying. 

She’d been told that the groom was supposed to give his sword to his bride as some sort of ‘legacy’, something the two of them would pass down to their firstborn son, while her sword was supposed to represent their union. Loki was supposed to care for the sword as he would care for her and their kids. 

It made sense in the context of the Asgardian warrior culture, Jane figured, but the rebel in her couldn’t help thinking that daggers would make far more sense given Loki’s particular battle preferences. When had she ever seen him use a sword? _Exactly_ zero _times._

In addition Jane wasn’t _near_ ready to think about children yet. _Getting ahead of ourselves, much?_ the negative little voice had whispered at that moment. The voice had been silent long enough that Jane had all but forgotten about it…but there it was again, always ready to rain on her parade. It was reliable like that.

So she and Loki had exchanged swords and then there’d been a brief ceremony with Odin serving as a stern and vaguely disdainful officiant. But again, Jane hadn’t cared, and still didn’t. Frigga and Thor’s obvious joy, as well as the presence of all the Avengers, plus Fury and Coulson, had buoyed Jane’s mood enough that Odin’s reaction hardly bothered her. It was a done deal in any case.

They finished reciting their vows and then drank from a huge, heavy goblet of mead that Odin held out to them. Then they’d left the Hall, in procession with their bridal party, an act which itself seemed to take a week to do, given the size of the chamber and the number of onlookers who stopped them to give their blessings and congratulations. Jane felt exhausted just remembering it.

But finally the bridal party – minus Odin, thank God – had accompanied her and Loki to the bridal chamber (Loki’s rooms, of course, newly cleaned and decorated for the occasion). Jane had been half-afraid they’d need to perform some kind of public consummation (superfluous as _that_ would be), but Loki had only plucked the bridal crown of flowers from her head, and then tossed it over his shoulder to the waiting group. Jane figured that was their version of throwing the bouquet.

After much cheering, hugs and kisses, and well-wishing everyone had left. Jane and Loki had finally been alone. He’d filled the ringing silence by explaining that last custom to her: that the removal of the bridal crown by one’s husband was seen as a symbol of the consummation of their marriage. At which point Jane couldn’t help snickering. “Uh, I think we are past ‘consummation’. _Way_ past.”

She remembers Loki’s broad answering smile. “Indeed we are. Though that does not mean we should not take this opportunity to indulge in yet another ‘consummation’.”

And then he had-

Jane quickly shoves those thoughts away before she flushes bright red. Instead she turns her thoughts to the conclusion of the rituals, which had taken place the morning after. Just when she’d thought they were done with the football-stadium-sized events, after breakfast they’d all convened once again in the Great Hall, where before all of Asgard Loki had given her a final gift, one which he later explained marked that their marriage was complete.

Jane recognized it right away. It was the ring that matched the necklace he’d once given her (and that Thanos had destroyed). Two enameled snakes entwined, holding a white gem in their tiny jaws. The ring he’d offered her twice before. This time she accepted it, allowing him to slide it onto her ring finger. It seemed she wasn’t expected to give him a ring in return; apparently that was not ‘a thing’ in Asgard.

Loki had grinned happily – no doubt because she was wearing the darned thing at last - and given her a kiss passionate enough to fill the hall with loud cheers and encouragement. 

When the noise had died down, he’d also given her a set of keys. Apparently that were not only for his rooms at the Palace, but also for all the royal chambers he had access to (and Odin had looked especially peeved at that moment, when Jane had glanced his way). Once again they were also heavy with symbolism; they demonstrated Jane’s joint ownership of everything he claimed as his. 

“Which amounts to little at the present time,” he’d admitted unhappily to her in the privacy of his ( _their_ , she corrected herself) rooms later. “Would that I had a fortress of my own to offer, or a parcel of land-”

She’d shushed him very rapidly and effectively, as she recalls, though again she has to stop the memory before she turns completely red.

_ And that was what they consider a ‘small’ wedding. Uh-huh. Mind you, not that our ‘Earth’ version has exactly been calm and sedate! _

Practically the moment they’d returned to Earth Tony had begun pestering Loki about a bachelor’s party (though Jane had a feeling the main reason why Tony had been bugging Loki about such things was _just_ to bug Loki, period). 

Loki had quashed the whole idea as soon as the traditions were described to him. As Jane recalls, his exact words had been ‘I have little interest in watching naked mortal females – other than my wife - dance, or in drinking your subpar Midgardian ales’. She hadn’t known whether to blush, groan, or kick him smartly in the ankle under the table in the Stark lab room. _Probably all three things at once._

Jane hadn’t really been keen on a bachelorette party either, parties never really being her scene. So instead she and Loki had settled for a semi-intimate gathering at Stark Tower with Darcy, Erik, and the Avengers. She’d even managed to have fun, even if Loki had continued to act as if he’d rather be anywhere but in the same room as ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’. Tony continually antagonizing him certainly hadn’t helped, and things understandably were still strained between Loki and Erik-

At that thought, she turns to smile reassuringly at Erik. He looks vaguely troubled even now, though he’d agreed immediately when Jane had asked him to walk her down the aisle for her official ‘Midgardian’ wedding.

“It’s what your father would want,” he’d answered, blinking obvious tears from his eyes. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

He’s probably having second thoughts, not that she can really blame him after what he went through at Loki’s hands. While she’d hoped that with everything that had happened since, Erik would have warmed little more to her _de facto_ husband, she figures being mind-controlled isn’t something that can be forgiven or forgotten so easily. Even if Loki _had_ rescued her twice, and even though Loki’s been acting far more considerately towards Erik than nearly everyone else, except Darcy.

Erik notices her furrowed brow. “Never mind me,” he whispers with a little shake of his head. “I’m just a suspicious old goat.” Jane squeezes his arm, trying still to cheer him up. 

It’s not just Loki, she knows. After everything Erik went through, he’s also not willing to trust SHIELD or Fury, not entirely. There have been too many lies, too much withheld information. Jane knows exactly how he feels. Had circumstances with her portal research been different, she would’ve told SHIELD long ago to take a long walk off a short cliff. 

But the fact is she couldn’t have built her portal without the resources SHIELD had made available to her, nor the connections. Sure, she probably could have managed it all eventually without Tony’s arc reactor (not to mention his manic need to test limits, pushing her to take even more risks than she normally would have). However, how many years or decades would have gone by before she’d succeeded, if ever?

_ And I also need them to rebuild the portal too, _ she reminds herself. She hasn’t been back to the bunker since Thanos yanked her through her gateway to Asgard, but she knows from Loki’s and Tony’s descriptions that her portal generator had been pretty well torched.

Soft music starts, interrupting her darkening thoughts. _Later,_ she berates herself. She wants to focus on happier things today.

They start to walk down the aisle, marked by a red carpet runner, heading towards both the group of guests seated on each side and the bridal party waiting for them at the other end. 

The Helicarrier is not at all a romantic setting – certainly not one Jane would have chosen – but Fury had insisted on it. “With Asgardian royalty in attendance,” he’d informed Jane, “the World Security Council would prefer that nobody tries to take advantage of an opportunity to start a new war. So we’re doing this in the most well-defended, mobile place SHIELD owns.”

_ He’s so fucking paranoid, _ had been Jane’s first reaction. But then again, after everything that had happened with Thanos – and who knew how many allies of Thanos might still be out there looking for revenge, Loki’s assurances aside – she finds it easier to see Fury’s side these days. At least on some things.

Besides, here on the Observation Deck, Jane has to admit the view is rather spectacular through the huge windows, even given the interference of the veil Darcy had insisted on Jane wearing (“Because, it’s an _Earth_ wedding, Jane!”). They are currently flying over land, and she can see snow-capped mountains in the far distance, and dense forests drifting by below them. _It’s better than a tacky, Elvis-themed chapel in Las Vegas!_

The group in attendance is small, partly because Jane just doesn’t have that many family or friends, but also partly because Fury had also demanded nearly complete secrecy for the wedding beyond those few family and friends. It’s not only for Jane’s protection and that of the ‘Asgardian royals’, but also for that of the Avengers in attendance. Heroes make enemies, it seems.

Speaking of Asgardians, a chorus of whoops grabs Jane’s attention, courtesy of the Warriors Three. Volstagg even leans over the shorter Fandral, who is standing in front of him, to clap Jane enthusiastically on the shoulder as she passes. It nearly topples her though Erik helps her keep her feet. Too late Sif drags at Volstagg’s arm and urges him to _restrain_ himself, though she’s smiling.

Jane smiles in return, though she knows Loki had balked at first at bringing his former friends to witness their Earth wedding. With Jane’s portal a melted ruin and the Asgardian Bifröst still not in working order, they’d been dependent on Loki to use his magic and that ‘natural pathway’ of his to bring anybody from Asgard over here. 

He’d argued that the Warriors Three and Sif were no longer friends, and thus should not be invited, but Jane had put her foot down. These people had helped rescue her from The Other after all (not to mention she had a sneaking suspicion that Sif was going to be her sister-in-law one day, so why not lay some groundwork for that right now?). 

“If it wasn’t for their help, I might not be alive today for you to have tricked into marrying you,” she’d teased him, though she’d put enough iron in her tone to let him know he wouldn’t hear the end of it until he agreed. Which he had, after rolling his eyes and sighing theatrically.

That was one of the (few) good things about his ill-conceived trickery; she had something to keep throwing in his face to keep him in line, or so Jane preferred to believe.

She’s approaching the next row, and here are the Avengers in formal wear. Steve is smiling at her, and Tony, encouraged by the Warriors Three behind him, is being just as vocal in his joy. Next to him, Pepper barely pauses between eye-rolls.

Romanoff and Barton (as Jane still thinks of them) are as reserved as Jane expected. Given their history with Loki, Jane has her doubts whether they will ever approve of her association with him. She can only hope that Loki will see the intelligence in cooperating with the Avengers, and that over time they’ll come to accept him, and by extension, this marriage.

Dr. Banner seems very unsettled, glancing furtively around the vast room more than once, and Jane knows just how he feels. She’s happy to be here of course, but she’s never really been into gatherings, even small ones like this. And he’s even less of a social butterfly than she is…for obvious reasons!

Soon she’s passing the front row, and to her left are Loki’s parents, with at least ten members of the Royal Guard standing off to the side as inconspicuously as they can in their bright golden armour. As expected given the presence of ‘alien royalty’, a SHIELD strike team is also here, standing against the bland metal walls like statues with guns. Jane is used to their silent company by now, after so many months working under their watchful gaze on Stark-Foster. _That’s a little sad in and of itself, isn’t it?_

Her gaze settles briefly on Frigga and Odin, both of them wearing more cloth than armour for once, though the fabrics have so much gold and silver embroidery that they’re probably nearly as stiff as armour! Odin looks just as stern, imposing, and faintly disapproving as ever. _At least he’s consistent,_ Jane supposes. Frigga smiles warmly at Jane while dabbing at her own eyes. _OK, so it’s not just me. What is it about weddings and being over-emotional?_

In the row on Jane’s other side is her _Mom_ of all people, with Phil Coulson standing next to her wearing his characteristic little half-smile, though Jane can tell he’s happy for her. 

Jane smiles tentatively at her mother. They haven’t had much time to be reacquainted.

It’s all Loki’s fault, of course. This morning he’d strolled imperiously into Jane’s tin can of a room in one of the Helicarrier’s lower decks, loftily ignoring Darcy’s scandalized freaking out about ‘not seeing the bride before the ceremony’, and proclaiming that he had brought someone to see Jane.

It turned out he had decided that if he could reconcile with his parents, Jane should at least try to reconcile with her own. He’d said something to that effect, anyway, before ushering Mom in. She’d looked much greyer and thinner than Jane remembered, and her eyes, so similar to Jane’s own, had been pretty dazed. Either because of how disorienting Loki’s teleporting could be when you weren’t used to it, or because of whatever Loki may have told her about Jane and himself. Probably both.

True to form, Loki had stalked off and left Jane to deal with this surprise, though at least he’d taken a sputtering Darcy with him. So Jane had been left to explain to her mother in an abbreviated form what had happened ever since Jane left and they stopped speaking. _Talk about awkward_.

Getting Mom to accept that Jane was actually marrying ( _had_ married, rather) an ancient ‘god’ from legend had been the most challenging part, though the fact that Mom had just been teleported from the kitchen of her home to the middle of a SHIELD Helicarrier had helped a bit. Then there was the news reports from the Battle of Manhattan, which even Mom had been aware of, though understandably she’d needing some help understanding why exactly Jane was marrying the alleged ‘bad guy’.

At least Mom hadn’t started to guilt-trip Jane about all the missing years, so that was something, and right this moment Jane is stunned to realize her Mom is also misty-eyed. She smiles hesitantly back as Jane moves past on her way to the dais. Maybe there’s hope for a relationship with her Mom.

They climb the two steps to the top of the dais at last. Erik hugs her, kissing her cheek through the slightly-coarse material of the veil, and hands her off to Loki. Naturally the ‘god’ is smirking ever-so-slightly as he takes her hand, his observant eyes taking in every detail.

Jane had put her foot down about wearing something plain and white, and both Loki and Frigga had agreed, especially once Darcy added her loud and insistent two cents in about ‘Earth customs’. So Jane’s wearing a simple gown with three-quarter-length sleeves and a modest neckline, and a skirt that covers her to the ankle. No train, since someone as naturally clumsy as Jane was would be sure to trip on it. Or so she’d argued, and won.

Then there was the veil, thanks to Darcy (who seemed to be filling the ‘overbearing mother-in-law’ role far better than Frigga was!), and simple white shoes with low heels (again, always helpful to a klutz like her).

Jane’s one concession to the Asgardian obsession with over-the-top jewelry was a belt of woven golden metal set with shimmering stones that resembled opals. Frigga had insisted Jane wear it, right after Darcy had explained the ‘something borrowed’ tradition to the queen. Frigga had worn it at her own wedding to Odin, and although Jane had her reservations about _that_ particular relationship, needless to say, she saw little reason to refuse the queen. It was a tiny price to pay to help smooth the way for reconciliation between Loki and his family.

The other Asgardian touch in Jane’s wardrobe is quite a bit more subdued: a bouquet of starflowers. The same silvery, blue-centered flowers Thor had given her weeks ago, to thank her for helping bring his wayward brother back to the family. Jane hadn’t argued against this element at all; it strikes her as more than appropriate. 

And now as Loki examines her appearance, Jane allows herself to admire him right back. He’s looking very dapper today, in a coal-black three-piece suit with an emerald kerchief (as expected) peeking out of the pocket. He’d brushed off both Frigga’s and Jane’s suggestions that he wear something more Asgardian, which makes Jane wonder if this is somehow yet another jab at Odin. As if Loki is publically denying his Asgardian heritage, as well as flaunting his ability to blend seamlessly in with the humans. Jane wouldn’t be surprised.

Case in point: Thor, the Best Man, is standing next to Loki, and his clothes are similar to his parents’ attire – no metal to be seen, but the cut and fancy needlework in metallic thread at neck and hem unquestionably identifies him as Asgardian. He gives Jane a smile of pure joy, moving forward to take her hand in a nearly bruising grip as he leans the long way down to kiss her cheek. “I cannot tell you how pleased and privileged I am, to be able to call you sister,” he whispers to her. 

Jane hugs him enthusiastically back, then turns to hug Darcy next to him. As Jane’s maid of honour, Darcy had seen it as her responsibility to insist on all the traditional wedding rituals - like the veil - right down to the ‘something borrowed, something blue’. But honestly Jane had been happy to let her. All these social niceties and protocols had never been her thing; another reason why she’d often found the stars preferable. You didn’t have to worry about offending _them_ with some breach of etiquette!

Darcy dabs quickly at her eyes with a tissue, then smiles encouragingly at Jane. “I’m so happy for you,” she says under her breath, “not to mention frickin’ _jealous_. You _so_ better tell me at dinner where you and Mr. Mischief are going on your honeymoon, and give me every last detail of it when you get back!”

Grinning and whispering a promise, Jane moves at last to take her place by Loki’s side in front of their officiant. _Hmmm. One-eyed, vaguely disapproving…I feel like I’m back on Asgard_ , Jane notes, trying not to smirk. A glance at Loki’s faintly amused expression tells her his thinking is running along similar lines. Still, with Jane’s chosen religion being astrophysics, and the only divine being Loki worships being _himself_ , a civil union is the only workable choice. Fury had insisted on doing the honours himself, insisting it saved on paperwork somehow.

Apparently there had been a _lot_ of paperwork, Fury had told her the other day, his eye glinting with irritation. 

“You do realize you are marrying someone who’s technically not a citizen of our planet?” he’d snapped when she’d been dumb enough to ask why. “No social insurance number, no birth certificate, no _nothing_.” 

Jane had been tempted to remind Fury that technically, she was already married according to Asgardian law (and if Fury disagreed on the legality of that, Jane knew of at least two Norse gods, one blond and one black-haired, who were likely to argue that point with him), but before she could, Fury had passed his hand over his bald pate and continued heavily, “And you know how much I _hate_ relying on Stark for anything. So remember you owe me for this, Doc. A _big_ one.”

Tony seemingly had no problems (or qualms) about hacking into municipal, state, and federal records to create the required documents, and not only for Loki. He’d created some documents for Thor as well (“Because I _can_ ,” he’d allegedly boasted to Fury). 

Jane was fairly certain she didn’t want to look too closely at any of those documents. She had a sinking feeling Tony had put Loki’s place of birth as “Lake Titicaca” or something equally ridiculous and designed to rile Loki up. It seemed to be Tony’s favourite pastime lately (irritating Jane’s hubby, that is).

Given all that, it’s hardly shocking that Fury looks a little like he’d rather be undergoing a root canal, but he goes through the vows with them without sounding too sarcastic. It probably helps that Loki is being a perfect gentleman, though Jane won’t take any bets on how long _that’s_ going to last.

At Loki’s insistence the vows are pretty much the same ones she quoted to him the night of his ‘elopement trick’. One change is that Fury refers to Loki as ‘Odinson’, and Loki’s lips tighten to a thin white line when he does. 

It’s the same reaction Loki had during their official Asgardian ceremony, but now, as then, that’s all he does. 

_ Is that Fury’s little way of getting back at Loki? Oh well. At least nobody has referred to me as ‘The Deathkiller’ during _ this _ceremony._

Thor steps forward, proffering the rings in his huge paw while beaming happily at both of them. 

Loki smiles brilliantly at her as he slides the ring onto her finger, right up against the snake one she’s already wearing. The new ring is of plain golden metal, just like any traditional Earth wedding. Jane had told Loki only half-jokingly that she can only stand to wear so much ‘bling’, and he had agreed to her request with exceptionally little resistance. She slips a similar ring (though much larger, of course) onto Loki’s finger, grinning right back at him. 

It’s official now, on both ‘Realms’. Jane is married, and to Loki the God of Mischief and Lies, of all people (gods?). 

_ If you’d told me a year or so ago that this was how my love life would end up- _

“You may now kiss,” Fury informs them, and is that a tiny smile quirking the side of the Director’s mouth? She doesn’t have time to be sure however, because Loki practically drags her into his arms, sweeps the veil magically out of his way with a snap of his fingers, and kisses her deeply enough to steal every molecule of her breath and attention.

_ I should really tell him no _ tongue _in public_ , she notes hazily when he finally releases her. Everyone is cheering and applauding though, so Jane decides now is not the best time.

Fury steps towards them and reaches a hand out to Jane. He shakes her hand with a “Congratulations, Doctor Foster,” then he turns to Loki and there’s a pregnant pause before Fury continues dryly with “God of Mischief.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but anything he’s about to say is cut off by Volstagg, who whacks Loki on the back energetically, hard enough to make the smaller man stagger forward a step. “All blessings to you, my prince! I can hardly believe you married before Thor!” 

With fear Jane wonders if Volstagg has already started drinking yet, to say such suicidal things. She doesn’t see or hear Loki’s reply though, because now Darcy’s hugging her, and then there’s Erik, still smiling cautiously as if he can’t quite trust what’s happened. Next comes Phil shaking her hand, and Fandral picking her up and whirling her around until she can barely stand, and so on and so on until the faces of the well-wishers blur together. 

She is somehow deposited in front of Loki once more just in time to witness Tony approaching her new husband.

_ Here we go _ , Jane thinks with a silent groan, resigned to the notion that at some point she’ll likely have to physically squeeze herself between the two men to calm things down. 

“So,” Tony begins jovially, “all it took was a feisty Earthling scientist to make an honest man of you, huh?”

Loki grins devilishly in response, though he seems to be in a good mood, much to Jane’s relief. “I am _rarely_ honest, Stark. Surely even someone as deluded about their own intellect as you are, has learned _that_ much during the brief duration of our acquaintance.”

“Now, now, be nice,” Tony chides him, grinning, “your blushing bride is watching, and I’m sure you don’t wanna get stuck sleeping on the couch on your wedding night, do you?”

Loki raises a brow at this but before Jane can intervene, Steve Rogers does it for her. “It’s the man’s _wedding_ , Stark. Cut him some slack, willya?” He edges himself between the two of them, extending his hand towards Loki. “Congratulations,” Steve tells him.

“Yeah,” cuts in someone behind Steve, and when the Captain moves aside Jane sees that the speaker is Clint Barton. “Sometimes I think Tony’s brain only has two settings: snarky and _snarkier_.”

“You’re just jealous,” Tony counters with a broad smile, apparently not at all offended. “Your arrows are the only _zingers_ you’re capable of, Legolas.”

Jane feigns annoyance with all them, her arms akimbo, but it proves too much of a struggle to hide her amusement. “God, I can’t take you guys _anywhere_ , can I?” 

“Nope. Nobody can,” Tony informs her, deadpan. “That’s why we only get together for special occasions. Such as aliens attacking New York, or rescues of lovely and genius damsels in distress from crazy purple megalomaniacs. Oh, and the occasional interspecies wedding. Lucky _you_ , right?” He winks and bends to kiss her cheek, mock-whispering in her ear: “Congrats, Foster. Keep him in line, OK?”

“I’ll keep you on speed-dial just in case,” she responds, winking over Tony’s shoulder at her pretending-to-be-scandalized husband.

*~*~*

The reception is as boisterous an affair as Loki expected, given the particular combination of the Warriors Three (not to mention Stark) and alcohol. Not that the usual Midgardian rotgut would be at all sufficient to affect an Asgardian warrior, but as Volstagg’s wedding gift to them had been three casks of the best Asgardian mead, which of course the rotund oaf had then felt free to help himself to, well…

Loki does his best to block out the furor so that he can focus on the conversations occurring next to him. It is between dinner courses and Jane sits at his side, holding onto his hand with a nervous and slightly sweaty grip – he is well-aware of her feelings on social gathering, and entirely sympathizes - deep in conversation with Lady Darcy, Mother, and Jane’s mother. 

It is intriguing to note that Jane seems more at ease with Frigga than she does with her own mother, though Loki is secretly pleased at how warmly Frigga (and yes, Thor) have welcomed Jane into the family.

Frigga is making the effort to be convivial to Jane’s mother, despite the obvious unease between the latter and Frigga’s daughter-in-law. This does not surprise Loki either; after centuries of welcoming dignitaries of all kinds, his mother is well-versed in handling even the most tense of social situations with aplomb.

It is also more than a little disconcerting to see Jane’s warm brown eyes duplicated in that heavily lined face, and the straight short-cropped hair with only a random thread or two of brunette to break up the silver locks. Is this what his own Jane will come to look like when she becomes advanced in years?

His train of thought is arrested when Lady Darcy attempts to get his attention by tossing a dessert spoon onto the plate in front of him. He blinks at her. “Yes?”

“I was asking where you two lovebirds are going on your honeymoon?” 

Loki tries not to smirk at the term. He’d looked up the unfamiliar word on Darcy’s precious Internet (quite useful, even he must admit) after he’d first heard its use. Still, the notion that he and Jane will drink mead constantly over the first month of their marriage, though certainly possible, amuses him greatly. He doubts Jane has the constitution to bear drinking Asgardian mead for such a protracted period. 

“We haven’t really discussed it yet,” Jane is saying, looking questioningly at Loki. “What with all the _surprise_ elopements and last-minute ceremonies and all-”

“I thought I would show you each of the Nine Realms,” Loki remarks magnanimously. “What discussion is necessary? It is the only obvious choice given your thirst for knowledge about the universe, my wife.” He raises her hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Really?” Jane laughs, alight with excitement. From the corner of his eye Loki is aware of Mother explaining the meaning of ‘the Nine Realms’ to Jane’s mother, who looks incredulous. But such is to be expected, he supposes.

“Holy crap, that sounds _awesome_ ,” Darcy jumps in, “I am so frickin’ _jealous_ of you, Jane.” She turns to Loki. “Please tell me there’s another eligible god around? I want one of my own.”

Loki affects a serious demeanor as he motions towards the table where the Warriors Three and Thor are currently challenging the Avengers to some inane drinking game. “Hogun and Fandral are as yet unattached. As is Thor,” he points out, doing his utmost to ignore his mother’s chiding look. 

“Oh, good point!” Darcy replies, winking mock-slyly at Loki. “In that case, put in a good word for me with them, OK?”

“Which one of them?” Loki asks, content to continue the jest as long as she is.

“Heck, _all_ of them. I’m a girl who likes to keep her options open.” 

“Darcy!” Jane laughs again, swatting at the other woman’s arm, and Loki allows himself to smirk.

It occurs to him suddenly that he still owes Darcy a boon. She had insisted upon using said favour to ‘force’ Loki to work with the Avengers to save Jane from Thanos, but given he would have done so in any case, he supposes he still owes her. _The Nine Realms are vast, and it is unlikely one brief visit to each will satisfy Jane’s curiosity. Perhaps I will suggest to my lovely wife that Darcy accompany us on our next foray to the other Realms._

Reveling in his generosity, Loki sits back in his chair and takes a moment to survey the assembled guests. It’s a respectable crowd overall, considering his lack of friends. A rare feeling of contentment suffuses him.

Until his gaze falls upon Odin, and Loki feels the bite of a familiar anger. It is not just how Odin sits there, his tight mask of reserve barely concealing his disgust with the entire proceedings. No, it is also how the All-Father dared to pass judgement on Loki, merely a week after their second ‘official’ marriage ceremony had occurred. 

Remembering Odin’s words gives Loki cause to grit his teeth. Even after all Loki had done to try to redeem himself, the All-Father had insisted a punishment was needed. That attempting to take the lives of both the King of Asgard and his first-born son was a crime that required an answer, even if Loki had played a major role in saving not just them, but an entire Realm (arguably _two_ Realms, given his machinations on Midgard).

Odin had deigned to pass sentence in private, perchance because public opinion was far warmer to Loki these days than Odin would have preferred. Or so Jane had opined, when she and Loki had analyzed the situation afterwards.

The Lesser Hall had thus been empty of all life during the sentencing, except for Frigga, Thor, Loki, Jane, and of course the All-Father. As well as four Palace Guards sworn to secrecy.

But even in the presence of so few (and even fewer who were dear to him), Loki’s rage had stewed in his guts as Odin rapped Gungnir sharply on the floor and began to impose his sentence.

With no effort, Loki can still recall every word of that pompous, unrepentant speech: 

_ As King of Asgard, it is my right and my duty to uphold our laws, and those who transgress them will always be held accountable for their actions. _

_ Had you, Loki Odinson, not attempted to save Asgard from Thanos’ forces, the punishment for your crimes would have been to be stripped of your magics and locked in the lowest dungeons of Asgard. For all eternity, or until you chose to forsake your immortal life and ascend to Valhalla. _

Here the All-Father had glanced quickly in the direction of Frigga and Thor, and Loki would wonder later how much of a role they had played in reducing his sentence.

_ But as you made an attempt, however belated, to make amends, I hereby decree that such will be your punishment: You are to remain on Midgard indefinitely, to continue make reparations to those whom you have wronged there. Until such time as I have decided that you have made full recompense for your former sins.  _

As punishments go, Loki is convinced it is far lighter than what Odin _desired_ to bestow upon him. In many ways, this is little more than a slap on the wrist. At the very least the All-Father could have stripped Loki of all his magics, and even his immortal life, and banished Loki to Midgard as he once did Thor. Given he already possesses a Midgardian as his wife, some might not regard such a fate as even resembling true punishment.

Nonetheless, the idea of being thus chained to Midgard grates on Loki (as the All-Father doubtless guessed it would). This despite the fact that he is well aware of the irrationality of such an attitude; Jane will in all likelihood want to spend at least some (if not most) of her time in this Realm and Loki would not have married her if he had not wished to keep her by his side, so the rest must follow.

Yet as both a God, and as a personage capable of seeking out and employing the secret passageways between Yggdrasil’s branches, to have that freedom taken from him…it makes him _seethe_.

Add to this being forced to make amends to these _Midgardians_. Oh, Loki has claimed one as his wife, and will admit a certain fondness for several more of them, Lady Darcy being first among that lot. But the rest of them? Has he not already risked himself more than once on their behalf? First ensuring that the so-called Battle of Manhattan would end in the mortals’ favour, and then again on Asgard, attempting to guarantee that their precious Avengers would not perish while trying to free Yggdrasil of the common threat that Thanos posed.

All that apparently counted for nothing in Odin’s eyes _. And what of_ Odin’s _role in the debacle that has been so much of my life?_

He smirks slightly now as he remembers his own haughty rejoinder to Odin’s sentence.

_ And what of you? What ‘punishment’ should you receive, oh mighty and wise All-Father, for your crimes against  _ me _? For plotting to use me as a tool, all while not only denying me the truth of my heritage, but also while demonstrating to me in every glance and every word that I would_ never _be able to achieve the same regard from you as your true-born son._

Thor’s brow had furrowed at Loki’s rebuttal, while Frigga had gasped Loki’s name, her face turning paler as silence fell heavily upon them all.

Only Jane, his fierce little Valkyrie, had appeared completely unafraid as she crossed her arms and glared up at Odin, as interested as Loki in Odin’s answer.

But none had been forthcoming. “I have spoken,” Odin declared gruffly. He rapped Gungnir on the floor once more, the jolting echoes booming through the Hall. Seemingly blind to those who stared up at him, the All-Father rose laboriously from his throne, his movements more halting than usual. He wore his advanced age like a cloak as he came down the stairs and exited the room, ignoring Loki and the rest of them as the Palace guards moved to flank the King.

At an earlier time in his life Loki would have mourned seeing Odin in such a state. _But those days are long past_. 

Jane sets a hand on Loki’s elbow, jarring him gratefully from his sour reflections. “Hey, you OK?” she asks. The side of her mouth turns upwards. “Second thoughts about marrying me?” she baits gently.

He grins, inclining his head towards her. “Even if I was having such thoughts – which I assure you I most certainly am _not_ – it is far too late. You and I have certainly been through enough marriage rituals of late, have we not?” He wrinkles his nose in faux disapproval.

“That’s what you get for trying to take the sneaky way out,” Jane points out, grinning back at him.

The chiming noise of cutlery tapping against glass interrupts their banter, filling the large grey room, and with a feigned sigh Loki leans to kiss his bride. While not so different from certain Asgardian customs, Loki figures he has a reputation of impatience with ‘Midgardian foolishness’ to uphold. 

When the meal ends at last, it is time for the ‘first dance’, or so Darcy tells them. In fact, she badgers them until Loki leads a reluctant Jane into the blank space in the middle of the circle of tables. “How do you tolerate her?” Loki remarks loudly to Jane, only somewhat seriously.

“I heard that!” Darcy snaps vehemently behind them. This is swiftly followed by the sound of laughter from the rest of the gathering, bearing witness to their antics.

The music starts, some soft and slow Midgardian tune, and Loki twirls around the dance floor with Jane, politely ignoring the many times her feet come down on his.

“I _hate_ this,” Jane whispers after a moment or two, trying and failing to conceal a grimace as she glances around at all the people watching them.

“I know,” he soothes. “But at least it is not a complicated dance, unlike the ones we attempted during the Asgardian ceremony.”

“Yeah, I sucked _worse_ at those ones.” Jane chuckles but there is little levity in it.

“It is simple enough to alter the focus of our audience.” Loki pauses mid-step, beckoning others out on the floor with them, and within moments they are surrounded (and partially concealed) by other couples. It amuses Loki greatly to observe the Black Widow and the soldier dancing together (such a mismatch!), as well as the Son of Coul dancing in a stately fashion with Agent Maria Hill. It is much less unexpected to see Stark with Lady Potts, and Thor accompanying their mother. Loki also observes Hogun on the sidelines, silently observing for a moment as is his wont, though as Loki could well have predicted, Hogun soon turns to Sif to request the pleasure of a dance.

All too speedily, Loki’s least favourite Midgardian is hovering at his elbow. “What do you want, Stark?” Loki inquires haughtily, guiding Jane skillfully through another turn.

“To score a dance with your newly-minted spouse, of course. You _did_ explain to him how dancing on this planet works, right Jane?”

“Have a care how you speak to my wife,” Loki growls, though he is enjoying the riposting with the metal man more than he would ever admit to anyone, except perhaps Jane.

“Oh, right,” Stark nods saucily then adopts a lilting accent, one that is nearly laughable. “Lady Jane, dost thou wish to dance with a _real_ gentleman tonight?” 

“I do _not_ sound like that. Your ability to imitate needs much work. As does your ability to endear yourself to my fellow Asgardians,” Loki snipes, referring obliquely to how Stark was able to get himself barred from the observatory on Asgard after he took apart an enchanted telescope to, quote, ‘see how it worked’.

“Your buddy Volstagg and I get along fine,” Stark points out. “Me and Fandral too.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” he asks rhetorically.

“The music will be over by the time you two are finished posturing,” Jane utters with exasperation. “Go on, Loki, go dance with your Mom. It’s another Midgardian wedding tradition, OK? In fact, better do it before Darcy gets on your ass about it.”

“Yes, I would most certainly not want _that_ ,” Loki grins, relinquishing Jane to Stark at last, making a show of ignoring Stark’s parting “Smart man” comment. _I believe I still owe Stark a prank or two. Perhaps three._ He will need to think on that.

As he is making his way between the tables to ask Frigga to dance, Loki feels a hand grasp at his arm. Reluctantly, Loki turns to face his adoptive father.

“As you have insisted upon marrying this Midgardian,” Odin begins without other preamble, “then it stands to reason she should be offered our immortality. Mortal lives are far too short and sickness-ridden to make this union worthwhile otherwise.” The All-Father tilts his head pensively. “Unless that was your intent?”

Loki bites back a foul curse. Of course, Odin would think this a kind of marriage of convenience, rather than believe that a pure form of love could exist between an Asgardian (even a false one) and a human woman.

“I had pondered the issue of immortality for Jane,” Loki admits through gritted teeth. Naturally if his (un)father offers immortality to Jane, this will spare Loki the time and risk of trying to steal the spell for her. But: _I must attempt not to appear too eager._ If Odin realizes this is something Loki wants badly, no doubt the All-Father will use it against Loki somehow.

Odin nods. “Then, in accordance with our traditions, she will need to be tested.”

Loki stares dumbfounded at the other man. “To prove her courage and bravery? She killed _Thanos_. What more evidence is needed?”

The All-Father’s eye narrows. “My understanding is that she stabbed the beast in the back. While necessary, it was hardly the most heroic or honourable of acts.”

Even though in his heart Loki knows Jane would thoroughly agree with Odin in this matter, had they no audience, he would have struck the older man across the face. His hands clench into fists as he marshals his control, though Odin continues before Loki can reply: “And even if one were to argue that it was a brave act, it changes nothing. I am sure you recall how Hogun came to us. A Vanir, and already with a catalogue of valiant deeds to his name.”

Loki nods curtly in reply. Of course Loki knows, he is no fool. The Vanir are not immortal, unlike Asgardians, so Hogun would have been at a distinct disadvantage if he had attempted to battle at Thor’s side without the protection of Asgardian immortality-

“Despite that, he was still tested. It is our way.” Odin concludes in a tone that brooks no argument. Or would, if the All-Father was addressing anyone else.

But Loki does not wish to ruin this marriage ceremony (even if it is technically their third one) arguing semantics with an obstinate old man. “I shall discuss this matter with Jane when I judge the time right,” is all Loki bothers to reply. In this instance it is even the truth. _‘No more unilateral decisions’, that is our pact._

Without further word to the All-Father, Loki turns away and scans the room for his Jane. She’s seated herself once more at the head table, now apparently in deep discussion with Sif. 

Jane had mentioned the other day how obvious Sif’s affection for Thor is, yet how his brother seems oblivious (not that such is any surprise at all to Loki). He wonders if Jane is currently encouraging Sif to reveal her true feelings to Thor, and if Sif does, how his blundering oaf of a brother will react.

_ Sif is far better suited for him than Jane.  _ Loki thinks smugly, though he knows well that his opinion is wholly biased.

Loki starts towards his wife, then realizes his path is about to be blocked by Darcy. She is striding purposefully in his direction, an amused Frigga in tow, and Loki resigns himself to his fate of participating in yet another inconsequential Midgardian tradition.


	3. Betokens a Base Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Jane have their (final) wedding night. Smut ahoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all, except for the occasional OC.
> 
> Banner made by the lovely and talented story_weaver.

Jane watches Loki and Frigga elegantly gliding around the dancefloor, as carefree and graceful as if this isn’t their first time dancing to ‘Earth’ music. _And maybe it isn’t,_ she realizes. _Thor has been here before, and Loki._ Loki had told that they had visited Earth many times in the past, when they were young. Maybe Frigga has been here before too.

Either way, they move far more skillfully than Jane ever has, and she has to brush away a spike of jealousy. T _he joys of being born with two left feet_ , she thinks wryly. 

Glancing around, Jane takes a second to relax as Darcy is currently too busy flirting with Fandral to bother Jane about throwing the bouquet. Or whatever else is next on Darcy’s internal list of Wedding Traditions That Must Be Observed.

Erik and Bruce are standing in one corner of the large grey room, and are deep in conversation. She wonders if they’re discussing some new kind of joint science project.

Jane remembers Erik telling her about Bruce – though she hadn’t known that was who Erik had been talking about at the time – when SHIELD had taken her research. Well, taken it the _first_ time.

_ I knew this scientist... a pioneer in gamma radiation. S.H.I.E.L.D showed up and... he wasn't heard from again. _

Given his tendency to morph into the ‘Hulk’, Jane figures she (and Erik) now know why Bruce dropped off the face of the Earth.

The two men had renewed their friendship in Asgard while Jane had been recovering from her near-fatal Chitauri stab wound. Erik had needed to overcome his initial shock at hearing that Bruce was the Hulk, though Jane supposes that after meeting Norse gods in person and visiting Asgard, finding out that a former friend can shapeshift into a ‘green rage monster’ (in Tony’s words) isn’t such a stretch.

She doesn’t know if Erik is pursuing some new line of research that requires Bruce’s knowledge of gamma radiation. The only thing he’s discussed with her lately, and it’s only been in passing, is his study of some kind of ‘convergence’ of nebulaes. Or something to that effect. With all the weddings she hasn’t had much time or energy to involve herself in his new line of research. _Not to mention there’s still my portal to fix. Not to mention all the follow-up afterwards. Publications, conferences, trying to use the portal to visit places other than Asgard…_

That line of thinking triggers another, so once the present dance is over and Loki bows to his mother, handing her off to Thor and drifting over to sink into a chair next to Jane, she leans over to whisper in his ear. 

“I just realized – how are we going to visit other worl- _Realms_ , if you’re under house arrest here on Earth?”

Loki grimaces slightly, his eyes following Frigga and Thor as they spin, laughing and smiling as they do their best to imitate the steps performed by the people around them. 

“Mother, of course. My understanding is that she badgered Odin night and day into instituting my punishment only once our journey through the Nine Realms is complete. I believe the core of her argument was something along the lines of ‘rewarding the Deathkiller for her courage in defeating Thanos’. And perhaps something about tempering retribution with mercy, given my attempts to save two Realms.” He shakes his head marginally and raises Jane’s hand to his lips, though he’s smirking when he lowers her hand again after his kiss. “Possibly she also may have mentioned to him that I would do anything, including flout his sentence, to show you new stars and worlds, as these are the very things you have been seeking knowledge of for your entire existence. However brief said existence has been by Asgardian reckoning.”

Jane grins back. “‘Possibly?’”

“Most likely,” he amends with a wider grin. 

The music soon is winding down and Jane finds herself stifling a yawn. She’s startled to see it’s already past midnight. It’s been a long day, and a _very_ long month, and she’s looking forward to getting away from it all with Loki. To have some time alone with him and to not have to worry about mothers and fathers and overbearing interns-turned-research-assistants named Darcy (even if she means well).

Thor appears at Jane’s elbow moments later as though he’s just read her mind. “I believe it is time that we escort you and your beloved to your chambers, is it not?” He grins a little naughtily, and Jane has to laugh though her cheeks redden. _Some things never change, like my ability to blush._

“Yeah, we’d better make sure Loki here doesn’t cut and run,” jokes Tony, who pops up by Thor’s side. 

“Tony just shut _up_ already, OK?” Jane counters, rolling her eyes. _That’s another thing I won’t miss – Tony baiting Loki_ every _chance he gets._

“I think _you_ would know far more about abandoning your lady love than I ever shall,” Loki remarks mildly though his gaze cuts pointedly across the room to where Pepper Potts is standing, chatting with Phil and Maria Hill.

Jane sighs and elbows him ungently in the ribs.

“Sticks and stones,” Tony smirks cheerfully, and Jane wonders how many drinks he’s had, and how much of it was that potent Asgardian stuff. “Anyway, shall we?”

After a brief kerfuffle with Darcy, who insists Jane toss the bouquet before they leave (Sif catches it deftly, though she looks more frightened than pleased when the meaning of the ritual is explained to her), an astonishing procession of people accompanies her and Loki to the quarters they’ve been assigned on the Helicarrier.

They pause at the door, where Loki turns to address the throng of family, friends, Avengers, Guards, and Warriors Three. “My friends,” he announces, and Jane wonders if it’s her paranoid imaginings that he sounds just slightly on this side of sarcastic. “I thank you for your support and love, and for witnessing this joyous moment in our now-united lives. But at this time, if you will excuse us both-” here he pauses and sweeps Jane up into his arms, as she emits a completely undignified squeak, “-I yet have some other ‘duties’ to attend to this night.”

The bare and rather ugly metal door closes behind them seconds later, cutting off the cheers, clapping and good-natured catcalls.

“Thank _God_ that’s over,” Jane mutters to herself as she surveys the little room. A bed, plain but big enough for two people, a metal filing cabinet, a card table and two folding chairs. The Ritz it isn’t, especially compared to Asgard’s pervasive gold and filigree and jeweled lighting. 

_ I don’t think these two wedding experiences could have been more different, _ Jane observes to herself with a grin.

Loki raises his brow at her questioningly. “Nothing. Just noticing the décor leaves a little to be desired,” she explains.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and vest as he replies. “It matters little. I intend to spirit you away at first light tomorrow. Or rather, today. Before Odin changes his mind,” he adds dryly.

She stares at him wide-eyed. “Would he?”

“As persuasive as Mother can be, one can never be certain of the turnings of Odin’s mind, and therefore it is a chance I am unwilling to take.” He glides over to Jane and gently begins working loose the bobby pins which are holding her veil in place. “But that is enough about _him_. This moment ought to be about us.” 

Jane quirks a smile up at him. “What, you’re not sick of having wedding nights with me? This is our _third_ one, you know.”

Loki looks down at her gravely as he carefully pulls the veil free, though his eyes glint with amusement. “It is, but had I anticipated boredom, I would never have married you.”

“Gee, what a ringing endorsement. Thanks for that. Besides, I seem to recall some trickery on your part was involved in the _first_ marriage ceremony.”

“Was it?” he asks with false innocence, the glint in his eyes even brighter now. He doesn’t say anything else as he takes her elbow in a light grip, tugging her with him as he backs towards the bed.

“Uh, yes, yes it wa-” Jane snarks, or attempts to. It’s a little hard to get on Loki’s case when he’s busy kissing her hard, his tongue probing firmly between her lips.

She’s dizzy by the time he lets her up for air. _How does he_ do _that?_

“Turn around,” he orders roughly, his eyes darkening as they trace down her body, and the blood slams into Jane’s face all over again. _While we’re on the subject, how does he do_ that, _too? It’s not like this is our first time together, not even close, but somehow he can still make me blush like a damned virgin with just two words!_

Jane turns slowly, feeling his gaze on her back like a brand. Long, warm fingers guide her hair forward over her shoulders, then delicately skate down the bared column of the back of her neck. Jane shivers and closes her eyes, exhaling slowly as she lets her head droop a bit.

“Yes,” he murmurs in a soft voice. “Set all cares aside, my love. We have battled hard to win this time for ourselves, and it would be a waste not to take full advantage, would it not?”

Jane snickers. “Whatever you say, ‘Silvertongue’.”

His chuckle in reply is both sinister and velvety, making Jane shiver all over again. “You of all people, Jane Foster of Midgard, cannot claim you are… _unmoved_ by my tongue.”

She can’t help herself; a loud laugh bursts out of her. “You could say that.”

“I believe I just did,” he agrees as his hand, now caressing the nape of her neck, moves lower to settle on the zipper at the back of her dress. He slowly works it down, tiny tooth by tiny tooth, and lips brush down her spine as it is bared. 

Jane closes her eyes, trembling. She feels and hears her dress fall into a pile around her ankles.

“And now what have we here?” Loki purrs. 

She opens her eyes and looks back over her shoulder to see Loki studying her bra and matching underwear. Make that her blue bra and underwear.

_ Oh, right _ . “Yet another wedding tradition Darcy badgered me into,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’. These are blue and new, so I killed two birds with one stone.” She’d gone shopping with Darcy a week ago to get these, in fact.

“Ah.” She predicts there’ll be an expression of confusion and a question about the ‘two birds’ expression from him, but neither happens. _He must’ve been doing research on the Internet again_.

“And what of _this_?” He asks instead, working a finger under the garter around her left thigh. A moment later he releases it, letting it snap sharply against her skin, and Jane turns to glare at him over her shoulder. His answering look is full of faux innocence once more, and Jane sighs. She should expect no less from the God of Mischief, and they both know it.  

“That’s the ‘borrowed’ and ‘old’ part. From Darcy’s cousin,” Jane shrugs. _Am I ever going to be glad when all this wedding crap is done with!_

“Ah,” he repeats. “Well you have no further need of it now, do you?” At the shake of her head, he works a finger under it again, stroking his knuckles across the sensitive flesh, and tugs it down. Jane steps out of the circle of garter and dress, then kicks off her shoes, shaking her hair free as she steps closer to Loki.

“My turn,” she declares, reaching for the collar of his white shirt. He smirks as she does this, moving to help her slip the shirt from his shoulders and arms. His eyes narrow, gleaming, as she works his belt slowly free of its loops, then pulls down his fly. _Still no underwear, why am I_ not _surprised?_ she thinks with a grin as his length practically springs out at her. She ignores it though, in favour of pulling his pants down to the floor.

He kicks off his footwear, socks – _Loki’s wearing_ socks? _Now there’s a shocker_ – and frees himself from the pant-legs, then takes firm grip of her upper arms before spinning her around so that her back is to him. “For once, my little Valkyrie, you are the one wearing entirely too many garments, a problem I shall now rectify.”

Her bra comes loose and Loki tosses it aside, turning Jane to face him once more. Lust shines in his eyes even as his gaze strays to the scar on Jane’s shoulder. Her eyes follow the same path as his, taking in the straight, pale line marring her skin. 

She feels then like she should probably say something, something loving and grateful. Something Loki would probably be far more practiced at putting into words than Jane is. She envies him that, but it doesn’t matter, since he moves before she has a chance to put thought into word.

Seating himself back on the bed, he reaches to grasp her elbow and all but drags her forward between his obscenely spread knees, pulling her flush against him. She can feel his hot shaft pushing between her thighs, though not yet into her, as he takes her mouth and breath with slow, thorough kisses.

Her head is spinning again by the time he changes tactics, kissing, nipping and licking his way down her chin, her neck and throat, and along one flaring collarbone.

The wavy ends of his hair are ticklish, like feathers on her skin, and she weaves her fingers into the inky mass, encouraging him to move lower. He obliges, apparently unfazed by how her fingers tighten in reaction when he reaches the tip of one breast and bites just a little too hard at the nipple. She gasps and his breath strokes across her skin as he chuckles, but he soothes her quickly with a soft suckle, Jane’s knees wobbling as she tries to stay upright.

_ I’m going to fall over- _ She’s tired and she wants to be able to lie down on the bed and concentrate on nothing but the feel of his body on hers, so she tugs on his hair, trying to move him backwards.

Ignoring her silent plea, Loki takes the other nipple between his teeth, teasing the very tip with the edge of his tongue, and Jane groans, struggling again to lock her knees, trying to urge him backwards nonverbally as the words trip over themselves in her throat. How he can still affect her so powerfully after so many months together, she’ll never understand. OK, so she hasn’t dated that many people in her life, but _still_ -

Low, evil laughter vibrates against her skin, as if he is aware of her fragmented thoughts. His strong hands cup her behind, holding her still as he licks a wet line down the center of her belly to the lacy edge of the panties. He buries his face between her legs, chafing the slightly rough fabric up and down against tender areas, and if he wasn’t holding her up Jane’s certain that she’d be collapsing to the floor in a trembling heap right now, gravity taking its due.

She prays he’ll stop tormenting her and just yank her underwear down, or make it vanish into thin air, but of course he takes his time, lapping leisurely at her through the lace, tracing the tip of his tongue agonizingly slowly around her swelling clit. Jane twists her fingers deeper into his hair and the nails of her other hand dig urgently into his steely shoulder muscle. 

Her pulse and breathing are racing, sweat dewing her back and face, and her knees are shaking all the harder now. “You keep this up, I’m probably going to fall on you,” Jane pants through clenched teeth.

“Do you require assistance? I assure you, dearest wife, that I always stand ready to provide it,” he hums, smirking. His fingers dig a little harder into her soft flesh, just as _another_ pair of hands closes firmly around her waist, with a bare, hard-muscled back pressing to hers. Jane can’t restrain a squeak of surprise and a glance over her shoulder. A second Loki leers down at her.

“I hate being outnumbered,” she complains, but it’s half-hearted at best. 

“Do you?” the second Loki inquires, idly tracing a fingertip down the scar on the back side of her shoulder. “A pity we have not convinced you otherwise before. We shall have to further demonstrate the advantages.” He leans into her, his teeth raking the side of her neck, and randomly Jane remembers their very first encounter, and the bite-mark he left – and then hid – on her. It’s long healed, of course, but the memory obviously remains.

She’s almost too distracted by the new Loki to notice the dexterous fingers of the first Loki taking her underwear down, dropping them around her ankles. He nuzzles the dark hair of her mound, in no hurry to pick up where he left off, his gaze dark with amusement as he looks up at her _. Christ, he’s going to tease me to death on our wedding night. Our_ third _wedding night. Wha- whatever._

Jane groans in dismay and pushes her hips forward, hoping, but the second Loki drags them back again, nipping at the lobe of her ear. She can feel him, throbbing and rigid against her ass, and she bucks fruitlessly when he reaches around her to tug on each nipple. The rising ache between her thighs is only going to be tamed by one thing, and they’re doing their best to deny her that. 

“Please,” she finally begs hoarsely, after the first Loki has spent entirely too long licking little trails up and down her thighs, the second Loki rolling her nipples between his slender fingers, while his teeth work at the shell of her ear.

“Please what, little one?” The first Loki questions her. “As I have mentioned many times, I am not a mind-reader.” His grin resembles a hungry shark’s.

_ Fuck you _ , she growls mentally though she won’t feed his amusement by saying it out loud. Her arms are still free, so she opts for winding her fingers into the soft mane of the first Loki’s hair, spreading her legs as wide as the panties hobbling her angles will allow, and guiding him eagerly between them.

He hums a laugh into her slickened skin, the vibration dancing along her nerves, but he gives her what she needs so badly, surrounding her most sensitive spot with his enthusiastic mouth and sucking hard, before licking her in long, broad strokes that leave her shuddering and crying out. The other Loki continues to knead her nipples, whispering heated suggestions in her ear about the many ways two of him can have her at once, and Jane shudders once more, abruptly right at the edge. 

The first Loki pulls away at just the wrong time, unaffected by Jane’s feeble attempts to keep him right where he is, breaking the illusion of her control. She gasps frantically, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and glares at him through the damp strands of bangs hanging in her eyes.

“Have we discussed the Earth notion of _divorce_ yet?” she snarls. “Or of ‘being in the doghouse’?”

The two Lokis don’t ask about that expression, either. “So fervent. You’ll gift us with your climax soon enough, my Jane. Position her,” he orders the second Loki. Jane is effortlessly manipulated like a life-size doll as she is turned to face the second Loki and lifted, poised over the first Loki’s lap and the taut, reddened shaft he’s gripping. 

She clutches at the shoulders of the second Loki, mindlessly digging her nails in again, as the first takes her hips and guides her inexorably down, impaling her deeply. He fills her completely, the pleasure washing over her in tingling waves. Though that’s nothing compared to what she experiences when the second Loki, grinning like the Devil himself, kneels between both their legs, spreads Jane’s folds wider, and applies a slippery tongue to her throbbing little button. 

“Oh God!” Jane cries out, not caring who might hear. She tries to grab for the second Loki’s hair but the first Loki captures her wrists and pulls them behind her back, defeating her protest with a sharp thrust of his hips, stabbing up into her in the most delicious way.

She can’t think, she’s too overwhelmed, she can only _feel_. The iron fingers handcuffing her wrists, the slow slide of the first Loki methodically moving in and out of her, the second Loki working her with the expertise of long familiarity. 

They work in tandem to drive her completely crazy, developing a rhythm that she’s powerless to resist. The first Loki thrusts hard, shoving so deep into her that it nearly hurts, and it’s always when he’s buried to the hilt in Jane that the second Loki suckles hardest at her tender bud. 

She comes at least twice, shaking and screaming Loki’s name. Everything grays out as her brain goes fuzzy, and by the time she’s regained the ability to focus, they’ve shifted things on her. The original Loki – or is it the second one? She can’t be sure any longer – is lying under her now and cradling her to his chest. Her arms are wound around his neck but try as she might, she can’t move them. _Magic?_

His hands are digging into the cheeks of her behind again, positioning her for his advance, Jane shivering as he slides smoothly in and the angle massages new areas inside her.

Jane has just enough time to wonder about the second Loki before her question is answered in a very unexpected way; the first Loki changes his hold slightly, spreading her cheeks apart wider, and then a cool tongue swipes wetly, shockingly, across the tight pucker of her ass.

“Loki!” she squeaks, trying wildly (and failing) to pull her hands from their place around his neck as he grins unrepentantly at her. 

“Now now,” he coaxes. “We are quite certain that such did not hurt you. In fact, we would hazard a guess that you enjoyed it, much as you might wish to pretend otherwise.” His eyes darken further as Jane gapes at him. “In any case, you are ours to do with as we please, so you have little choice but to submit, little wife.”

She’s just about to yell at him for the insulting ‘little wife’ thing when the Loki behind her curls his tongue languidly against that spot again, breaking her thoughts into shards. “You-” is all she manages, and even that is barely intelligible.

But Loki is right about her being helpless. And if she _does_ enjoy it, well…that’s her poorly-kept secret.

They work her back gradually to the cliff’s edge. The first Loki thrusts as slowly as he can, the strain evident in his tense muscles though he doesn’t seem bothered by this at all, idly running his hands up and down her back and moving to take her hips in a near-bruising grip whenever she’s foolish enough to try to push the pace. The second Loki has taken over spreading her open, sometimes licking and sometimes pushing the tip of his tongue _just_ into her. She’s pretty sure she’s dripping onto the bed beneath them, and the noises coming out of her would be totally mortifying if they were giving her any kind of chance to stop and realize it. 

When Jane comes again, it’s so hard that stars explode and wheel behind her eyes. From a distance it seems, she registers Loki grunting in her ear and pulsing himself dry inside her. The force binding her wrists together behind his neck releases all of a sudden as Loki lies back on the bed, and Jane slumps down onto the planes of her husband’s chest, curling into him.

“Have I…mentioned…that…you’re evil?” She mumbles between shaky breaths. 

A breath ghosts across the top of her head as he chuckles smugly. “Perhaps once or twice. And yet, somehow you always manage to find yourself in my bed. I believe you are heading in entirely the wrong direction if you are attempting to flee, my dear.”

Jane snorts and swats him ineffectually on one solid pectoral. “Oh shut _up_.”

A silken laugh greets this pronouncement. “For now, very well. You mortals do require extensive sleep, if my memory serves.”

She’s too tired to dignify that with an appropriately snarky reply.

*~*~*

At least Loki listens to her in the morning when Jane tells him that they can’t just leave. Well, they _could_ , but there’s a few people she feels she needs to see first.

So Loki waits with thinly-veiled impatience while Jane goes to say goodbye to Darcy, Erik, and the Avengers. She also takes it upon herself to thank Frigga and Thor for coming. 

Odin pretends to ignore Jane during her entire visit, so Jane returns the favour. She knows she’s not the only bride with a difficult father-in-law to deal with; it won’t kill her.

She saves the two hardest visits for last. First she gathers her courage with both hands as she walks into the high-ceilinged, echoing room which serves as the Helicarrier’s bridge. 

Although approaching Fury in private would be much easier for her, at the same time she knows that doing this openly will send a message. Jane isn’t ashamed of being married to Loki and she’s not going to let anyone, even the head of the largest clandestine agency in the States, look down on her for it.

“Director Fury,” she says in a firm, loud voice (just like she practiced) as she walks up behind him. He’s standing in the very center of the room in front of a bank of monitors arranged in a semicircle. _There, that went well._ Even if for a fraction of a second she gets a very unwelcome flashback to the first time she encountered Thanos.

Fury’s dry, flat tone brings her back to the here and now quickly. “Doctor,” he answers neutrally, not looking at her.

Jane takes a breath, trying not to rush anxiously through her words. “Thanks so much for hosting the wedding. And for marrying us. I just thought I’d let you know that Loki and I will be gone on our honeymoon for a month or two, but that when we get back, I’ll be ready to reconstruct my portal.”

She waits on his reply, shifting from foot to foot. She’s almost hoping he’s invested enough in the rebuilding of the Stark-Foster project to complain about her not being around for a while, but he only answers: “Fine. I heard something about you two doing the fly-by tour of the universe.”

Jane allows herself to chuckle as excitement rises inside her. “I guess you could call it that, yeah.”

“Good,” he says, his face unreadable as he finally swings around to face her. “Keep Loki as far away from here as you can, for as long as you can, Doctor.” His eye glints down at her but Jane can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious.

She decides it’s probably better if she doesn’t know which one it is.

“Sure,” she agrees amiably, “I’ll do my best.” Fury nods curtly and turns away, dismissing her. It doesn’t matter, she’s done her duty, and in any case Phil appears at her elbow in his usual low-key fashion, shaking her hand and telling her to enjoy herself.

After Jane leaves the bridge, it’s time for the hardest goodbye. All too soon Jane is standing hesitantly outside the dull metal door to the room Fury assigned to her Mom. It would be so much easier just to walk away, to let Loki take her across the stars right now. _One last obstacle,_ she comforts herself. _I’ve faced down worse. The Other and Thanos, right? This is_ Mom _, for God’s sake!_

It’s this thought that encourages her to knock. Her mother opens the door a few seconds later, and Jane is struck again by just how much her mother has aged in the intervening years. 

“Hi Mom. Can I come in?”

The room is neat and tidy, almost obsessively so. Jane wouldn’t be surprised if Mom gave the room a thorough once-over with bleach before she even went to bed last night. 

“I just wanted to thank you for coming-”

Her mother cuts off Jane’s words with a snort. “Your overbearing husband didn’t leave me much choice.” A small, uncertain smile glimmers on Mom’s face as she clasps her hands uncomfortably in front of her, though it removes any sting from what she said.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Jane replies sympathetically. “Believe me, I know the feeling.” She rolls her eyes for emphasis, then smiles as warmly as she can. “Remind me to tell you the story of our _first_ wedding ceremony sometime.” Jane intends to leave out all the x-rated bits in her retelling, of course.

Mild panic flashes in Mom’s eyes then. “You’re not staying?” It reminds Jane all too powerfully of the last time she left Mom. How strange that those emotions and memories are still so vivid, when that all happened so long ago.

_ If you walk out that door and leave me now, you’re no longer my daughter! _

“No, Loki and I are leaving on our honeymoon within the hour. We’re going on a _long_ trip, and probably won’t be back for a month or two.” Her mother’s troubled expression doesn’t change and, trying to anticipate Mom’s next question, Jane adds: “I’ve already made arrangements with Agent Coulson to get you back home in one of the Quinjets later today. He’s taking Darcy and Erik home that way too.”

Jane pauses, unsure, but then she decides that if Loki can try to reconcile with his family, why can’t she? “But I promise I’ll come visit you when we get back, and we’ll talk.” She stops again, taking a deep breath. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

Her hands trembling, Mom steps forward and hugs Jane awkwardly. “Yes honey, I’d like that a lot. I’ve…missed you so much.”

Jane swallows past the painful lump in her throat and hugs her mother back, praying that things can be better between them. 

_ It’s what Dad would want. _

*~*~*

When Jane returns to their room it’s empty. Loki probably has his own farewells to make so she settles down to wait, holding the wedding gift she got for him in her lap and fiddling with the bow as she replays the events of the recent past in her mind. The beginning of their ‘arrangement’. SHIELD finding out. The Other. Loki cutting and running, and then coming back to her. Thanos. The ‘elopement’. The weddings. 

_ And now a honeymoon that will span the known universe. Or rather the universe known to Norse gods, anyway.  _

It makes her wonder if things will ever go back to some semblance of normal for her, the ‘normal’ that she lived before Thor fell to Earth. _But do I really want that?_ It may have been calmer and quieter, but…

Would she have had her portal built by now, if Thor had never appeared? 

_ That assumes SHIELD will let me _ do _anything with my portal_ , Jane reminds herself uneasily. Fury has always kept a very tight leash on Stark-Foster, and Jane is under no illusions that once it’s rebuilt, that the Director will just give her carte blanche to use the portal any time she wants, to go to anywhere she wants.

_ Mind you, having a ‘god’ husband who can whisk me across the universe on a whim kinda negates all that, right? Not to mention I’m sure Tony will have something to say about all this, given his name is on the portal project too- _

Loki bursts into their room just then, once more wearing his usual armour. He’s smiling but it turns into a mild frown as he witnesses Jane’s thoughtful expression. “Does something ail you, my love?”

She shakes her head, unwilling to spoil the mood over things that haven’t even materialized as real problems yet. “It’s nothing. Here, let me give you this before we take off.” She holds the package, wrapped in metallic green paper and tied with a golden ribbon, towards him.

He cocks his head as he takes it from her. “And what is this?”

“Let’s call it a belated wedding gift. Earth custom,” she adds, when it looks like he might actually refuse it.

He seats himself beside her on the bed, tearing the paper open with his usual precision. He pulls the gift out and holds it up, letting it unfold down to the floor.

“We call those ‘jeans’,” she explains. “You’ve got ‘Dressy Asgardian’ and ‘Dressy Human’ down pat, so I figured it was time to introduce you to a more…casual look.” _It was a good look on Thor, anyway,_ she thinks, though it’s probably not a good idea to mention that particular bit of information. 

Loki painstakingly examines first the front of the jeans, then the back, and then tugs experimentally at a leg. “A strong fabric, despite the generally substandard skills of your Midgardian weavers,” he observes, and despite his rather insulting words, is that faint approval she hears in his voice?

She knows better than to take the bait. “At the very least we’ll match better now. Since, you know, I practically _live_ in jeans most of the time,” she notes, indicating the dark blue pair she’s currently wearing.

“Hm,” Loki replies. He performs a swirling motion with a hand and the jeans vanish, presumably into his Interdimensional Closet. “I will assess the accuracy of their fit at a later time. You will forgive me, I trust, if I prefer to wear my armour for the moment?”

Jane’s eyes widen at the serious look on his face. “Is there trouble?”

“Not any that is known to me at this time. But as we discussed I intend to take you to see each of the Nine Realms, and as you will soon discover, not all of the Nine are as hospitable as Midgard and Asgard. I would rather therefore err on the side of caution.”

“Oh, OK,” she agrees. He’s the expert in all of this, so she’s not going to argue.

“Are you ready to leave now, my Jane?” he asks. She scans the room, noticing for the first time that there’s no sign of the wedding dress she left folded over the bridge chair when she left the room this morning. Nor does she see the overnight bag she pushed under the table last night after brushing her teeth. 

“As there are no servants here to see to our needs, I took the liberty of collecting our personal items,” Loki tells her, standing and offering Jane his hand. 

Jane doesn’t bother to withhold her snort as she takes it. “I wouldn’t get used to servants if I were you. I have zero plans to hire anybody to take care of us when we’re on Earth; I do just fine on my own.” 

They’ve never discussed how much time they’ll be spending on Earth together as opposed to Asgard (or elsewhere), but Jane supposes that’s one thing she can kind of thank Odin for; his edict that Loki has to remain on Earth indefinitely (once the honeymoon is completed) has delayed that possible point of contention between her and Loki.

Loki smiles crookedly down at her. “That you do, my wife. But we will have extensive time to further discuss that, and other matters, during our travels.” He tugs lightly on her hand. “Shall we?” 

Jane nods and the familiar sensation of his teleportation spell envelops her, all sound and light bleeding to white for a fraction of a second. She blinks the mild disorientation away to discover they’re in the desert outside Puente Antiguo, with morning sunlight beating down on their heads and gleaming on the sand. When she looks down she realizes they’re standing next to where the Bifröst’s mark still faintly colours the earth.

“Wait, isn’t the Asgardian ‘Rainbow Bridge’ still broken?” Jane asks, confused as to why they’re here. 

“It is, yes. But the natural pathway between Realms that I have become accustomed to employing originates from this point as well.”

_ Is that just a coincidence? _ Jane wonders. Before she can pursue that line of thought further though, Loki asks: “Now, which Realm did you wish to see first?”

They’d talked about them a few times in the past, but Jane can never keep half of them straight in her head. “Remind me which one is which again?”

Smirking, Loki settles himself down on a flat-topped rock jutting out of the sand. “Alfheim, home of the light elves,” he intones, making another graceful motion of his hand. A ball of light curls into existence in the palm of his hand, before drifting from his fingers and sailing to hover in front of Jane. In the middle of the ball of light an image forms, one of forests with trees with that appear to have golden, spiraling trunks and silver leaves. The image shifts, zooming out, and behind the forests Jane can now see massive mountains thrusting snow-clad shoulders high into the sky, with huge clouds hanging in the sky beyond those.

“Vanaheim, home of the Vanir.” Another wave of his hand and a new ball of light forms, wafting past the first to take its place in front of Jane’s amazed eyes. Its depths show Jane a glimpse of a similar world, though the trees are the more typical brown-trunked and green-leaved versions she’s familiar with.

“The home of the dwarves, known as Nidavellir.” The contents of this bubble of light surprise her. It seems to be a world composed entirely of water, at least to judge by the expansive ocean, and nothing else, revealed so far in Loki’s illusion.

_ Dwarves, seriously? And they live _ there? _Tolkien couldn’t have gotten it more wrong._

“But several of the other Realms are sadly much less hospitable than these. They lack both civilization, and many comforts. Muspelheim, for example, the home of the Fire Giants.”

Jane gasps as the newest ball of light halts in front of her, jostling the others as it spins itself into visions of exploding volcanoes and steaming geysers of yellowed, probably sulphur-laden water. “Wow, that’s-”

But Loki is already moving on, and is it Jane’s imagination, or is he attempting to rush through these descriptions? “Svartalfheim. Once the home of the dark elves, but now an empty, burned husk of a world after many wars with both Asgard and Alfheim.” Where the dwarves’ planet seemed to be covered entirely in water, this one is a desert. Nothing but sand, high dunes, and the occasional dark hulk that seems to be either rock or a pile of rusting metal. Jane frowns as she observes the dark, bruised-looking clouds that fill the sky from end to end. “But-”

“Strangest of all, Niflheim. Time and place behave... _differently_ there,” Loki comments as this ball unfurls, though the center of it is filled with a gray mist so thick that Jane can make out only dim shapes. What they are – trees, rocks, people – she couldn’t say.

She has so many questions that she doesn’t know where to start, but the first one dies on her tongue as another ball of light manifests in the middle of the others. This one showcases a blue-tinged world, with sharp spires of rock and ice stabbing up into an inky sky sprinkled with stars. Snow blankets everything, and a few large flakes drift from one side of the bubble of light to the other, as if Jane is looking into the universe’s most grim and cheerless snow-globe.

“And…Jotunheim.” Loki’s expression is bleak as Jane looks over at him. 

Now she knows why he’s been rushing. He might be OK with showing her that side of himself in bed, but that’s as far as his acceptance of his true heritage goes if his current mood is any indication.

“Of course,” she echoes him, keeping her voice and face neutral. “I’d really like to see where you were born. Where you came from.”

For a moment dark rage flashes in his eyes, and Jane can imagine the denial he’s about to scream – _I come from Asgard!_ – but then it’s gone, and his expression carefully bland once again. 

Jane shakes her head and starts towards him. “Loki-” she starts, trying to reassure him.

Two more balls of light appear in her path, blocking her, and Jane catches glimpses of familiar sights forming inside them. The Great Hall of Asgard gleams golden in one and the familiar roof of her lab, the fire-pit flickering brightly in the nighttime scene depicted, hovers in the middle of the other.

“Asgard and your Earth are also counted among the Nine. Though naturally both are rather well-known to us.” He smirks slightly and Jane sighs inwardly and decides to confront his self-hatred at another time.

“Well-known to _you_ , maybe,” she counters. “There’s plenty of Asgard I haven’t seen yet. And Earth too, come to think of it.”

“Then pick one, and we shall begin expanding your knowledge,” he says as he rises, brushing the dust from his leather pants. 

She’s about to choose when the obvious hits her. “But…wait! I haven’t packed _anything_.”

He smiles warmly. “What could you possibly need that I cannot provide, my wife?”

_ Uh, how about recording devices?  _ This could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and even if it isn’t, Darcy will want details. Probably SHIELD too, knowing them.

“I don’t mean clothes and bathing suits, Loki. Look, I just need…” She turns, flustered, starting to shuffle through the sand in the direction of her lab. “I just need to grab a few things, alright?”

To her relief Loki doesn’t argue, he just trails silently after her. 

After about twenty-five minutes Jane has amassed quite the pile in the center of her lab. There’s three empty notebooks (the one she was using most recently is still in the bunker in Nevada as far as she knows) and a handful of ball-point pens. A small collapsible telescope. A few of the more esoteric and homemade instruments she uses to track atmospheric phenomena (and she’s still not sure how many of those phenomena were caused by the Asgardian Bifröst). There’s also her old laptop computer, her SLR camera, and a handheld video camera that’s surely obsolete by now. But since the last time she used the video camera was when Thor originally fell to Earth, she figures it’s brought her luck.

Done at last, Jane dusts off her hands and looks over to see Loki lounging against the wide doorframe, still smirking. “A _few_ things, did you say?” he remarks dryly.

“Hey, at least all this stuff is useful. It’s not like twenty pairs of _shoes_ , or something,” she challenges him, hands on her hips. 

“True enough,” he concedes. He stores everything magically away within an eye-blink then grins at her, holding out a hand invitingly. 

“It is time to choose, Jane.”

She can feel her brow scrunching as she thinks hard. She could easily pick Earth or Asgard, though the former would take some planning on her part; she needs to do some research first, to decide where she’d like to go with him. The latter would probably require more planning work on _his_ part, but Jane also feels like she needs a break from the royal family, at least for a little while. _Besides, I was just there._

The thrill of the unknown calls to her.

_ Jotunheim? Hmmm.  _ As much as she’s dying to see the world Loki originally came from, she’s fairly certain he’s not ready for that. And besides, he tried to kill all the Frost Giants not so long ago, right? So when they do visit he’ll probably spend most of the time on edge for various reasons, constantly looking over his shoulder. Not exactly her idea of a relaxing honeymoon destination.

_ Yeah, like a planet of fog or fire is any better.  _ What had he called those worlds? ‘Less hospitable’? Jane’s not sure she’s in the mood for that right now, as fascinating as those places surely will be. _Let’s have a relaxing visit first, if that’s possible. And then we’ll take on more of a challenging ‘Realm’._

What did that leave? She thinks back to the images Loki had spun for her. _Vanaheim, Alfheim, or that other place, Nida-whatever_. 

_ ‘Light elves’ sound interesting. _

She places her hand into Loki’s and smiles up at him. “I choose Alfheim.”

 


	4. Through the Dark Forest Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Jane visit the first Realm on their to-do list, Alfheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all, except for the occasional OC.

_ I’ll never get tired of this. Ever, _ Jane marvels as she rockets through space encircled in Loki’s arms.

She wishes she could hit some kind of button and pause the ride now and then, just so she could examine more closely all the heavenly bodies speeding by. _Patience,_ she advises herself. _I’m already going to be seeing nine new worlds on this trip. Don’t get greedy!_

It’s just after this thought that she first notices the planet. It’s far off at first, but as the seconds tick by it gets larger, and before long it fills most of the space in front of them.

She’s pretty sure this has got to be Alfheim. Even through the rushing rainbow lights Jane can catch glimpses of the silvery forests and the gigantic mountain range she spied before in Loki’s illusion, everything getting progressively larger as they hurtle towards the planet.

The light around them changes, shading from prisms of every colour imaginable into a light so pure and white that it blinds her, and her feet make contact with a hard surface, jolting her as the wind of their passage dies. 

Without Loki’s arms around her she almost certainly would have fallen over, but that doesn’t bother her. She laughs exuberantly, clutching at Loki’s leather sleeves as she works to catch her breath. “That is _never_ going to get old.”

He smirks down at her, only releasing his grip once he’s sure she can stand on her own. “I am glad you are enjoying yourself thus far. Welcome to Alfheim, Jane Foster of Midgard.” He motions towards the trees that ring them in.

They’re standing in a clearing surrounded by golden-skinned trees so tall that Jane has to crane her head until she feels the back of her skull touch her neck, to see the canopy. 

The grass around Jane’s feet is the same silver hue as the leaves on the trees, and incredibly soft when Jane bends wonderingly to touch the blades. Giving in to the urge to wander, she meanders over to the closest tree to touch the spiraling ridges in the bark, the texture of it unlike any tree she’s ever felt on Earth. When she looks up she can see sprays of tiny sky-blue flowers hiding among the silver foliage.

Behind her Loki seats himself on a flat rock in the center of the clearing, lounging patiently as Jane stops to take a breath of the sweetly-scented air (the perfume seems to be coming mostly from the grasses), and to listen to the tinkling whisper of the leaves.

After a minute or so she turns to Loki. “Are there no birds?” Granted, she shouldn’t expect that all the nine planets would have the same kinds of animals that Earth has, and yet…it seems strangely quiet without birdsong. 

“On Alfheim? Of a sort, but they live…elsewhere. Let me show you.” He rises and takes her by the hand, leading Jane off to a side that she hasn’t explored yet. 

There’s a trail there, lined with flat, gold-toned rocks. It slopes gently downwards, and after walking for about five minutes the trees around them open up into an even larger clearing. 

Jane stops dead in wonder, as over the tops of the trees she can now see one of the huge mountains. It certainly dwarfs anything she’s ever seen on Earth, although admittedly she hasn’t seen that many mountains in person. But this Alfheim geographical feature seems even more enormous than the massive mountain range she’s seen in Asgard, so she’s duly impressed.

As they resume walking Loki guides her forward, and she notices for the first time the immense pond in the very center of the clearing. The path they’re standing on leads to and circles around it, the stones becoming gradually larger the closer they get to the pool’s edge.

She and Loki follow the path, seating themselves on the wide rim of the pond, and what Jane she sees in the pale green water leaves her speechless for long seconds.

_ OK, that gives new meaning to the word ‘waterfowl’. _ She turns to Loki. “OK, not what I expected, that’s for sure!” He smiles broadly as he conjures small bits of bread to lure the water’s residents. He’s clearly gleaning a lot of enjoyment from her reactions. 

Jane eagerly studies the strange creatures as they approach in droves. They certainly fly a lot like Earth birds, pushing themselves through the water with body parts that closely resemble bird wings. And though Jane is no expert, these animals seem to be covered with both scales and stiff feathers. They certainly are colourful, much like their Earth counterparts. Jane’s favourite has sapphire-blue scales/feathers on its head, a breast of deep green, and ‘wings’ of gold that shade into silver across its back and long, curling tail. 

“I guess they don’t sing?” she inquires. They _are_ blowing bubbles in the water as Jane watches but if that’s a form of communication of any kind, she has no clue. 

“After a fashion,” Loki replies, scattering another handful of bread chunks. “The sounds are not dissimilar to the sounds your Midgardian whales make, if several orders of magnitude quieter. But they typically only emit such noises during their mating season, which is not for some months yet. The light elves normally keep and breed them for their colours.”

At the reminder, Jane raises her eyes from the water to examine the clearing. The patterned regularity of the path and the stones around the pond suggest intelligent beings constructed them, but- “Where are they? The light elves, I mean.”

“The light elves ceased living on the Realm’s surface many centuries ago. They prefer to allow the plant and animal life of this world to live unmolested as much as possible, barring a few places that they deem sacred. Or which they maintain to give themselves a haven when they require respite from the travails of daily life.”

“So, this place is like a temple? Or a vacation spot?”

“The latter,” he confirms as Jane returns her gaze to the fantastical creatures in the pond. 

It also reminds Jane that she’s a tourist here, and therefore…Ooops! 

“I need to take some pictures, or Darcy and Erik will _kill_ me. Can I have my camera, please?” It only takes a graceful motion of Loki’s hand, and Jane’s SLR and video cameras appear in her lap.

She takes a little movie of the bird-fish creatures, as well as the view of the mountains and the trees that ring the clearing. Then she snaps at least thirty photos. Through it all Loki waits, following her movements with his eyes as he swirls the pool water with long fingers, the bird-fish swimming over to investigate.

As Jane ambles around the clearing she wonders whether she’ll be able to share any information about this trip with anyone beyond her two closest friends. Tony? Probably; he’ll badger her to death otherwise. Maybe Steve, Bruce, and Phil too, if they’re interested. But this is all old hat to Thor, Jane’s sure, and she also has trouble believing Agents Romanoff and Barton will care at all. Nick Fury? Doubtful. _And speaking of Phil and Fury, what about, say, sharing all this with the larger scientific community?_

_Yeah, good luck with that. SHIELD hasn't exactly been eager to share all the details about Thor and Asgard (let alone Thanos and the Chitauri!) with the world. I won't hold my breath._ She gets the very definite impression SHIELD will not want anything about her honeymoon (heck, even her marriage to a certain ‘god’) going public in any way; they’ve been working way too hard to keep anything ‘alien’ out of the public eye for as long as they could. _They couldn’t hide what happened in New York, but they sure tried their best_ , Jane thinks sourly. The secrecy around the construction of her own portal alone had demonstrated in spades just how far SHIELD would go to hide those things it deemed too ‘risky’.

Doing her best to shake off these glum thoughts, she finally returns to the pond and Loki rolls to his feet, dusting crumbs from his hands and disappearing her cameras with more hand-motions. “Are you ready to meet the light elves, my love?”

“Absolutely,” Jane says, though both excitement and nerves roil her belly at the thought. She’s always been more comfortable with natural phenomena than with people. Now that she’s on a strange planet, about to meet people (aliens!) with a culture likely to be totally new to her….well, the potential for making a _huge_ gaffe is just that much greater.

Loki looks her up and down, brow furrowed in thought. “The two of us shall be very conspicuous in any case, but perhaps you will allow me to conceal your Midgardian clothing in illusion? I know that you are often made uncomfortable by the stares of others, and such clothing will surely incite curiosity.”

_ He knows me too well.  _ Jane nods her agreement. 

She feels something then, a light prickling sensation on her skin, and she looks down to see herself now covered shoulders-to-toes in a robe of dark green and black, embroidered with gold. Loki’s colours, of course.

“That tickled,” she remarks, more to herself than anything else, but Loki tilts his head pensively.

“This is not the first time you have ‘felt’ magic, have you?”

Jane shakes her head. Although she’s not sure it counts, she remembers the shimmering haze she’d witnessed behind her trailer the day Loki and Thor had fought over her, and how she’d managed to pierce the veil of Loki’s cloaking spell after a lot of mental effort on her part. 

And then there’d been the ominous tingle she’d felt right before The Other had wrenched her up straight into the air, kidnapping her. She can’t repress a shudder, and Loki steps forward to take her hand, his brow creased in concern. “It’s nothing,” she claims before he can ask, “Just a bad memory.”

“Then let us replace it with a better one,” he suggests as he takes her hand and guides it to the crook of his elbow. Jane expects him to teleport them away, but in place of that he leads her around and past the pond, to the exact opposite side of the clearing from where they first entered. 

The largest square yet of golden stone is set into the ground at the edge of the clearing, sunken slightly into the earth, and inlaid in the middle of the slab is a large disc of metal. It’s etched with filigreed symbols which remind Jane very strongly of the mark the Asgardian Bifröst burns into the ground every time it touches down somewhere.

She bends to studies the symbols more closely. “This is the Light Elvish version of the Rainbow Bridge,” Loki explains behind her. “They prefer not to damage the soil each time the end of the Bridge contacts the earth, and so they set permanent anchors for it instead. You will always find such in locations on Alfheim that the light elves visit regularly.” Dutifully, Jane asks for her camera back so she can snap a picture or two (no doubt SHIELD will be curious, and maybe she can think about doing something similar with her own portal at some point in the future). 

“Shall we?” he inquires. Her camera vanishes once more as he takes her arm and ushers her onto the disc. 

Jane frowns at the faint itch that blooms immediately on the soles of her feet, even through the thick soles of her sneakers-which-Loki-has-given-the-appearance-of-boots. He blinks down at her. “You _do_ sense the power, don’t you?” he murmurs, giving her another searching look.

Before Jane can ask why this fact is so interesting to him, she feels something like a gentle push to the middle of her back, and everything around them swirls noiselessly into silver light.

A breath later colours form in front of her eyes again, bleeding and blurring together as she feels a mild impact against her chest. She recoils but they’ve already stopped moving, and a second later everything comes into focus. Her mouth falls open inelegantly before she can help herself.

They’re in a huge room, much like the observatory on Asgard. The ceiling is a curving dome of massive windows, and through it Jane sees clear blue skies, with a sun blazing directly overhead that’s not so much different than the Earth’s. Though it’s quite a bit larger, and the colour of the sunlight seems subtly different in a way that makes Jane itch to pull out her spectral analyzer. _Could the Alfheim sun be a Class O or B star?_ _I’ll check into that later,_ she promises herself.

She and Loki are currently standing on a high dais, and beneath their feet is a disc which is identical to the one she just saw on the forest floor. But it’s not the only one in the room; Jane can see at least ten other raised platforms, all of which have the same disc set into them. _I guess this is a_ _‘transporter room’, or something like that._

Loki guides Jane carefully down the stairs to the floor, Jane trying to do that at the same time as she is examining the twisting patterns etched into each step, the floor, the low walls that ring the room…it’s very reminiscent of Asgard, though the predominant shade is silver rather than gold.

Her husband clears his throat to get her attention, and Jane notices for the first time that they aren’t alone. It takes a great deal of effort for Jane to keep her jaw from dropping again as she lays eyes on a light elf for the first time. Or rather, six of them. 

The pointed ears she certainly expected. The deep-set, bright yellow eyes a lot less. But really, the rest is just-

“Prince Loki of Asgard,” one of the elves steps forward from the group to greet them, long iridescent robes swirling around him as he bows his head and crosses his forearms over his chest. “We have not seen you for many _ells_. Welcome back to Alfheim. And may I presume this is your lady wife, the one we have heard so much about?” He executes the same movement towards her and Jane can only assume this is the light elvish equivalent of bowing.

_ ‘Heard so much about?’ Oh, _ no. _Here it comes._

Loki inclines his head haughtily in a way that makes her want to elbow him in the side. “You presume correctly, Oree’an rin Ky’sol. May I present my wife, Jane Foster of Midgard. The Deathkiller.” He adds the last two words with relish, now Jane _does_ elbow him in the side though it barely moves him. 

“ _Stop_ that,” she mutters crossly out the side of her mouth. But the elf who addressed them is grinning with delight as he moves to stand in front of Jane, crossing his hands and bowing his head again, if possible more deeply than before. Jane is mortified to discover that yes, she _is_ blushing. 

“You honour us with your presence, Princess Jane of Midgard. I shall inform the Queen of your arrival presently. I know she is most eager to hear the tale of the Abomination’s defeat. My Prince, perhaps you would care to show your wife around the city as we prepare your rooms?”

“Certainly. Be assured that my esteemed wife hungers to see the many wonders of Cerrat.” Loki winks at Jane.

The man – Oree’an, Loki called him – grins broadly, genuflects again, and strides purposefully away. The other elves execute the same bow and disperse, the sunlight gleaming off their faces and hair. 

Their ink-black faces and hair.

Loki tugs lightly at Jane’s arm, urging her in the direction Oree’an just left. There’s a low hum behind them just before they exit, and Jane glances back to see one of the other discs operating, a mass of rainbow light blooming above it before the light unfolds like a fan to reveal two light elves. Jane has just enough time to witness them descending the steps and joyously greeting the elves that await, before the room’s filigreed double doors swish shut behind her.

Jane has to hurry to keep up with Loki’s long stride. “OK, I need you to explain something to me. I thought you said these were the _light_ elves.”

A hint of a smirk hovers on his lips. “I did, and they are.”

“Um, OK, I…don’t get it. They’re dark. And I mean, _really_ dark. Like, ‘center-of-a-black-hole black’ dark.” Jane drops her voice as three elves appear at the other end of the corridor they are moving through. The elves bow their heads and cross their arms in respect as she and Loki pass them, though they’re also trying too obviously not to stare at her and Loki. 

The walls of the hallway are made up of some kind of filmy substance, so Jane can’t see anything through them. There is a thin strip of clear glass running along the ceiling of the hall, like a skylight, allowing warm sunlight to pour in.

“OK, I’ll bite – where’s the ‘light’ part, exactly?” Jane persists after a few steps, getting impatient now.

“Oh, there are several ancient tales about _that_ , and it will take some time to describe them. I shall do so later this evening, I promise you.”

Jane nods unwillingly, though a moment later she forgets her irritation with him as Loki guides her through a doorway to her right, and into another room. The walls are made of nothing but clear glass from floor to ceiling, and the view steals the air from Jane’s lungs. She walks on unsteady feet to the nearest section of windows, looking out for a long second, then she turns to Loki in awe. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

When he’d said the elves had left the planet’s surface, she hadn’t really thought through what that might mean. Certainly Jane would never have imagined anything like _this_.

“And spoil this delectable moment of surprise, my Jane? Hardly.” He saunters next to her to take in the view himself. If Jane tries to look down, all she can see is clouds; the fluffy white masses are clinging to the outside walls, just below the windows they’re looking out of. But about two or three yards out the clouds fade away, and past their thinning edges Jane can clearly see the ground…far beneath them. The silver forests and mountains look unbelievably tiny from here. 

“Is th-” she stammers, takes a deep breath, and tries again, “Are we are in a _flying_ city?”

“Essentially,” Loki replies nonchalantly. He’s obviously been here enough times that he’s immune to the miracle of all this. At the same time, he’s just as obviously enjoying renewing his acquaintance with the place through Jane’s amazed eyes. “Though ‘floating’ would be the most accurate descriptor. All of Alfheim’s people and their domesticated animals have lived in cloud-cities for centuries, as I alluded to earlier. This particular city, Cerrat, is the largest but there are forty-six others, varying in size from populations of thousands, down to several hundred.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Jane breathes, crossing to the opposite window-wall to take in the view on that side. Again, she remembers just in time to ask Loki for her cameras. _Darcy’s going to_ flip _when she sees all this!_

“I think I need my backpack back,” she observes a few minutes later, starting to feel bad about having to pester Loki every five seconds, or so it seems, to conjure her equipment for her. 

After a moment’s thought Loki pulls a small leather satchel from the air, and Jane thanks him as she puts the cameras away. _I’ll get a shot or three of the ‘transporter room’ later, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from Erik_ , she reminds herself. 

“What’s the propulsion system for the city?” she asks Loki curiously. “I mean, I don’t feel the floor vibrating, or hear engines or anything like that.” While flying in the Helicarrier had been far quieter than being inside a commercial jetliner, it had still been possible to feel and hear a slight vibration if you stopped still and listened, but Jane hasn’t noticed anything like that since arriving in Cerrat.

“Magic,” Loki states simply, as if it should be obvious, and Jane can’t stop a roll of her eyes. 

“Uh-huh. You know, one of these days you’re going to have to try to explain this whole ‘magic’ thing to me. How it all works, I mean.”

His reply is postponed by the appearance of Oree’an in the doorway. “Prince Loki, Princess Jane. The Queen has requested your presence.”

Loki nods regally in answer. “Of course.” He takes Jane’s hand and they follow after the elf down the same corridor as before. It quickly opens out into an enclosed area that might actually be large enough to hold all of the town of Puente Antiguo, as far as Jane can guess. The dome of clear glass (or whatever passes for glass here) that makes up the ceiling is larger than any such structure Jane knows of on Earth.

They follow Oree’an along streets paved with smooth tiles of grey, passing large spaces filled with fountains of crystal, tall gold-trunked trees, and landscaped swaths of flowers in a dizzying array of colours.

A stream of clear water rushes alongside the path they’re following, though it meanders away every now and then into one of the garden spaces. 

They also pass some areas where structures are grouped together. One particularly large grouping that they pass, set in a ring, looks like a farmer’s market of some sort, and other areas are obviously places where merchants are selling goods. Jane sees what appears to be weapons, potions, crystalline jewelry, and even one stall that’s selling what Jane assumes are musical instruments.

The structures themselves look odd to Jane, though Loki hurries her along after Oree’an before she can take a better look to confirm what she thinks she’s seen. _If I didn’t know better, I’d say they look like they are made up of tree trunks and branches which have chosen – or were forced somehow? – to grow into tables, and also into decorative archways and signs over each merchant’s booth, but… that’s not possible. Isn’t it?_

It’s a strange kind of torture for Jane: as their little party passes, groups of light elves stop, genuflect, and then try not to stare after them, murmuring to each other in excited tones.

Jane’s pretty sure her blushing is only just beginning for the day.

As if all this attention wasn’t awkward enough for an introvert like Jane, there’s also the strange and wonderful things she keeps glimpsing, and that she wants desperately to stop and examine more closely. Not just the tree-tables and the towering fountains of shimmering crystal, but also the public garden that seems to be in the very middle of this enclosed space, filled with at least thirty statues carved out of rainbow-hued blocks of crystal. 

Then there’s the series of tall doors in the wall of the dome off to their left, which open out into… Jane can only describe it as some kind of giant balcony-cum-pasture. It’s a fenced-in sea of grass the size of a football field with clouds clinging to the periphery, though in some places the clouds thin enough that Jane can see, beyond the ring of fences, how the sides of the pasture end in a sheer drop. Like a cliff’s edge.

But that’s nothing compared to the animals running through the swaying grasses, some of them galloping free, a few being ridden or led by light elves.

_ My God, those are…no wait, really? Well, ok, not exactly, but- _

There seem to be unicorns – _unicorns!_ – frolicking in the long grasses, except they have two horns instead of one. And some of them have wings like bats. 

They appear to come in every colour Earth horses do, plus a few colours Jane’s never seen on a human animal, like the one off in the far corner of the field with a coat of iridescent blue, and wings and horns of dark grey.

_ They’re  _ outside, she realizes a beat later. _There’s no dome protecting them from the elements. How are they able to breathe out there?_

The obvious answer comes to her almost immediately: _Magic, I’ll bet._

She really _really_ needs Loki to try to explain this whole magic thing to her, and soon.

Jane also really _really_ wants to stop and take in all of these wonders properly (and take more pictures!), but every time she tries Loki keeps urging her along. 

He smirks at her latest growl of frustration. “Patience, wife,” he murmurs for her ears only. “Rest assured that we will spend many days in this fair city. Much time will remain to slake your voracious curiosity, after we have performed our diplomatic duties.”

Jane stifles her aggravated sigh and lets herself be led along, as more and more elves stop what they are doing and stare after them. As a people, they’re generally taller and more heavily muscled than Jane had expected….frankly, she’d expected them to be pale, slender, willowy beings who lived in trees and sang silly songs… _Tolkien got it_ so _wrong_ , she thinks with amusement.

They finally reach the opposite edge of the dome, passing over the stream one last time by walking across a bridge of decoratively twisted metal, and then into an enclosed walkway made entirely of glass, except for the grey stone tiles beneath their feet.

Through the glass walls, Jane sees what can only be Alfheim’s Palace. While it’s not nearly as imposing as the one at Asgard, it’s still very impressive to Jane. 

Much like the Asbru Bridge of Asgard, the walkway they are on stretches off quite some distance in front of them, leading directly to the imposing building. It looks like hundreds and hundreds of shimmering, milky crystalline spires of various sizes, all of them stuck together in a way that looks almost organic, as if the building was not constructed, but grown. For all Jane knows, it _was_ grown.

As they get closer, countless balconies and open archways in the spires come into view, many of them populated. Again she has to wonder how the elves can comfortably linger outside in what surely has to be a thin, very cold atmosphere up here.

The walkway they’re on begins to gradually slope downward, and Jane’s legs are aching by the time they reach the end. _I am_ so _out of shape_ , she groans to herself. She really needs to take more of those dance-aerobics classes with Darcy.

_ And maybe weight-lifting. And, you know, kick-boxing or something, just so I can make some tiny attempt to live up to this whole ‘Deathkiller’ thing. _

They pass through two folding glass doors, and Jane blinks to find herself standing out in the open air. It’s actually warm (if humid) and Jane has no trouble at all breathing. Magic again, she’d guess.

Her little party of three is now standing in what appears to be a large circular courtyard, smack dab in front of the towering spires of the Palace. Rank upon rank of elves clad in gleaming silver armour block their path, until their leader genuflects with a smile, and the ranks open in a tightly choreographed maneuver to allow them to pass.

More elves stand in a straight line in front of tall crystal doors in the Palace, but as Oree’an leads her and Loki forward, they too bow their heads and cross their arms. Then they step aside, all except the four elves who push on the doors to swing them open. Jane catches a brief glimpse of etched drawings on those doors, which seem to depict some kind of battle between the elves and some enemy she can’t identify, before they are whisked through and into the huge, airy open space beyond.

This Hall is perhaps slightly less awe-inspiring to Jane than it once might have been; she’s become fairly well acquainted with these kinds of things after all her time in Asgard.

Still, the crystal pillars, carved into spirals which mimic the Alfheim trees, stretch nearly six stories up to the ceiling of the Hall, and both that ceiling and the tops of the spires have been carved to resemble a forest canopy. Jane is suitably enthralled by the scale and the workmanship.

Equally tall, long bands of sheer gossamer fabric hang along the sides of the Hall, all of them dyed in different, if pale, colours. Each has a different intricate symbol embroidered into it; at a guess, Jane would bet each represents a different group or tribe of elves.

Despite the grandeur, however, it soon becomes obvious to Jane that the elven Queen stands on much less ceremony than Odin. While the Hall _is_ large (if not quite as large as the Asgardian Greater Hall), and many elves stand guard along the sides of the room, the throne is a surprisingly simple affair of dark wood. The vines and flowers carved into it are only slightly gilded, and the cushion on it is patterned in gold and silver, but those are the only ostentatious touches. In addition, instead of being raised on a dais, the throne sits in the middle of the floor, on the same level as everyone milling around. 

It makes Odin, with his colossal gold throne set on top of a ridiculously tall dais, seem arrogant and needlessly self-important by comparison. _I think I_ like _these Light Elves!_

The occupant of the throne rises to her feet as they approach. “Prince Loki,” The Queen greets them. Her gown is also simple, pale gold in colour and with not much in the way of decoration or jewels. Her ebony hair, which is long enough to brush the floor, is plaited into a single braid, and a thin circlet of gold wraps around her brow. It too is relatively plain, bearing only a small blue stone in the center which is surrounded by miniscule leaves and flowers sculpted into the metal, in echo of the throne behind her.

She doesn’t bow her head or cross her arms over her chest, but she does smile fondly and extend a hand to Loki as she waves Oree’an away. Grinning, he takes it and elegantly kisses the back. Next to the throne is a smaller, even plainer seat, and a male elf rises from it to stand next to the Queen. His clothes are even less elaborate than the Queen’s; a tunic and pants of light silver-grey, though a simple, unadorned circlet of silver crosses his forehead as well.

“Your Majesty, may I present my wife, Jane Foster of Midgard?” Loki inquires, placing a hand on the small of Jane’s back to push her slightly forward. “Jane, this is Ar’tora ren Cy’rrn, Queen of Alfheim.”

Jane smiles shyly and clumsily drops into a curtsey. “Your Majesty.”

The Queen’s smile widens, though her yellow eyes are kind. Jane notices for the first time that the pupils of light elves are not round like those of humans and Asgardians, but shaped more like rectangles. “Is that how Midgardians greet their royalty? Fascinating. Allow me to present my Consort, Do’ran rin Xe’ryn.” The man next to her smiles and genuflects, laugh lines creasing his face. 

“Ah, the Deathkiller,” he observes in a surprisingly deep voice. “Forgive my impertinence, Princess Jane, but given all the tales concerning your defeat of the Abomination, I had expected you to be, perhaps…. _taller_.”

Jane blinks in confusion. “You- you heard about that?” she stammers. OK, so that guy Oree’an had known, so she probably should have seen this coming. But somehow she’d never expected that the royalty of another _world_ would know or care at all about someone so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, like one Jane Foster-

The Queen laughs kindly. “You must be new to the Asgardian Court. I am afraid you will find, Jane Foster of Midgard, that the only thing that travels faster between Realms than the Bifröst, is gossip.”

Jane can’t help an undignified snort in answer. “Yeah, word travels fast on Earth too. I guess elves and humans aren’t so different in that way.” From the corner of her eye Jane is aware of Loki smirking at their exchange. 

The Queen turns her attention to Loki. “Speaking of gossip, how fare the Father and Mother of All, Prince?”

The smirk drops from Loki’s face immediately, and Jane feels instantly sorry for him. Even here on their honeymoon, it seems Loki can never fully escape Odin’s shadow. 

His voice is a study in blandness as he answers: “As well as can be expected, my Queen. It has been many centuries since Asgard was attacked with such…vigour. The All-Father was not prepared for the might of Thanos’ armies.” Jane knows all too well what Loki doesn’t say: Odin _chose_ not to prepare. 

_ Loki  _ tried _to warn him, but Odin chose instead to throw Loki in jail._

“Not since the wars with Svartalfheim or Jotunheim, by all accounts,” the Queen agrees, nodding.

“And your Bifröst is yet to be rebuilt?” asks Do’ran, his curiosity evident. 

“We are some months from its completion, yes. It is based on ancient magics and knowledge that few in Asgard possess any longer.” 

“Would that we could aid Asgard in that task, but as you know the magics of Alfheim and Asgard differ too greatly in that regard,” the Queen remarks somberly. 

Loki inclines his head again in full-on diplomatic mode. “That is a sentiment that we of Asgard most appreciate, my Queen. The All-Father has always been pleased to count the light elves as friends.”

“Alfheim is one of the few Realms which has never gone to war with Asgard,” the Queen explains to Jane. “And I note that Midgard is the other. That is an additional detail that our two Realms have in common, Jane Foster. It is therefore strange to me that our peoples have remained so separate over the eons. I cannot recall the last time a human set foot in one of our cities.” 

“Perhaps that is soon to change, my Queen,” Loki suggests. “My wife has been laboring for many long years to build a Bifröst on Midgard. Before long you may well be welcoming many visitors from that Realm.” The look he turns on Jane as he says this is brimming with enough pride to make her cheeks turn embarrassingly hot. _Stop that_ , she wants to hiss at him. 

She settles for an eye-roll.

“I was unaware that Midgard was anywhere near ready in that regard,” the Queen informs them, an eager light in her eyes. “Clearly I was misinformed and therefore I must hear more about the matter. As well as the full tale of your battle against the Abomination. Gossip can sustain for a time, but it is usually embellished far beyond the true happenings of the original event. I thus often find myself craving the details from the actual _source_. And now that I have that, I intend to take full advantage. The two of you simply must dine with us this evening.” 

It’s an order (though polite) and not a request, but Loki still treats it as one. “Of course. The _Deathkiller_ and I would be honoured.” He flicks a quick grin at Jane and the colour deepening in her cheeks.

_ I’m going to kill him, _ Jane decides. _Seriously._

*~*~*

Arrangements have been made for them to stay at the Palace for as long as they are in Cerrat, and their suite of rooms is just as grand – and insanely large and ostentatious – as Loki’s chambers in Asgard, even if the décor is very different.

The walls are crystal, not stone, though Jane is relieved to discover they are also opaque, just like the Palace’s exterior walls. She’s not anywhere near as much of an exhibitionist as Loki is!

The golden bed which dominates the main room is just as huge as she expected. Each corner of the bed has a post with spirals carved into it, as well as exquisitely realistic shoots and tiny blue flowers ‘sprouting’ here and there. They look just like the Alfheim trees, and the same motif carries over every piece of furniture that Jane sees here; all the furniture legs have the same spirals, leaves and flowers, and even the flat surfaces of the tables, chairs and desks are subtly grooved as if someone took the bark off one or more of the trees, laid it out flat, and then sanded it down.

Then she reaches to touch one of the tiny sculpted flowers, and gets her next surprise. Petal-softness registers against her fingertips. “Whoa, these leaves and flowers are real? The furniture is… _alive_?” She turns stunned eyes on Loki.

“Essentially,” he replies, sitting on one of the chairs to shrug off his surcoat. “Originally they were trees taken from the forests below and coaxed to grow into the required shapes, so that the Elves need not cause the plants pain by cutting the wood.” He stretches out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. “But now the Elves cultivate them in special gardens in their cloud-cities, and the trees are so inured to what is required that the Elves no longer need to use magic to direct their growth.” 

“But…” Jane stares at Loki, then looks down at the chair her hand is resting on. “These are living things. Don’t they need sun, and watering? They don’t seem to have a root system.” By way of illustration she tries to move the chair, and it glides smoothly across the crystalline flooring.

“Servants water the furniture once a week,” Loki tells her, but the hint of a smirk on his lips and the gleam in his eye makes her think he’s putting her on.

She gives him a hard look to let him know she wasn’t born yesterday – it’s probably _magic_ keeping the furniture alive _,_ it has to be - but she’s too enthralled by it all to maintain a grumpy mood.

Still, she wonders how he can be so blasé about everything. “I know this whole ‘magic’ thing is no big deal to you, Loki, but still…how can you not find this all completely _amazing_?”

“Oh I did at one point, when I was a child and viewing these marvels for the first time,” he admits, his expression pensive. “Perhaps that is the one drawback of being a mage myself; matters that seem miraculous to some, are of little note to me. Even though the magics of Alfheim are not easily grasped by those not born to them, their principles are not unfamiliar to one such as me. Given enough time and practice – and knowledge of the proper spells – I could perform many of the same feats.”

Jane shakes her head slightly. “If – _when_ – I ever figure out the secrets of the universe, I hope I never fall prey to that. I mean, that I don’t ever start to see all this as commonplace.”

“Somehow I feel that is an unlikely scenario for you, my love. And while we are speaking of wonders, allow me to reveal another to you.” He stands and reaches for her hand.

Along one wall of the bedroom there hangs a set of iridescent curtains, rippling slowly as if in a breeze that Jane can’t feel. Loki leads her towards and then, without skipping a beat, _through_ them as though they aren’t there. A tingling sensation on her skin draws a gasp out of her when they breach the curtains.

She blinks and they are standing on a large terrace, spanned by a graceful arch of filigreed railing, the floor beneath their feet made of the same crystal as the bedroom floor.

The view is utterly breathtaking.

“Oh. My. God. I need my-” Before she finishes the sentence Loki has already conjured the satchel with her cameras from where she dropped it on the bed. He leans on his elbows on the railing, the black strands of his hair blown gently around his face by the mild wind as Jane snaps more pictures. 

She tries her best to capture how the clouds at the base of the back of the Palace, forty stories below them, thin and fade about twenty yards out, allowing the magnificent sprawl of forests and mountains below them to come into view. Not to mention the breathtaking sunset that is happening: the sun is now more than halfway below the horizon, painting sky and clouds in soft pastel colours. 

But even those are nothing compared to the gigantic moon looming in the left-hand side of the sky. It’s the same white colour as Earth’s moon, but it’s so close to Alfheim that it is larger by a third than the sun itself. 

“The tides on Alfheim must be _insane_ ,” Jane muses out loud, scrabbling in the satchel for her dog-eared notepad. “I wonder what kind of gravitational forces it exerts. Mind you, is it a giant moon, or is it actually a small moon that’s just in really _really_ close orbit? If it’s close, I’ll bet that causes a lot of seismic activity on Alfheim.” She pauses in her scribbling, squinting up at the planetary body. “Wait, _is_ it a moon? If it’s big enough it could have an atmosphere, and...”

She rambles on, though Loki smiles indulgently and patiently answers all of Jane’s rapid-fire questions as best he can. Only seconds later, it seems, a servant arrives to inform them that their meal with the Queen will begin within an hour. 

Jane takes several pictures of the room and its unique furniture while her cameras are still out, before she races to get ready for their audience with the Queen. The dress Loki conjures for her is gold in colour, with hundreds of tiny emeralds worked into the embroidery on the bodice. The emerald-studded collar necklace he fastens around her throat himself just puts it over the top. 

She gulps nervously, remembering the Alfheim Queen’s relatively plain clothing, but if this is what Loki thinks is appropriate it’s probably better not to argue. Like it or not Jane is a representative of sorts for Earth (and as Loki’s wife, probably for Asgard as well), and with her utter lack of experience in the ways of diplomacy, she’s got to rely on his judgment.

Loki himself has chosen to wear primarily black. The black leather pants and boots are still there (aren’t they nearly always, with him?) but he’s changed into a short tunic made of a black velvety fabric. Bracers of gold inlaid with emeralds, to match Jane’s outfit, decorate his wrists. 

Cursing under her breath she tries to tame her hair into an Asgardian-worthy style, but he urges her instead to put it into single simple braid. “It is the fashion here.”

“You look… _wow_ ,” Jane tells him. “And have I told you just how much I _love_ your hair lately? Whatever Frigga says, don’t you dare cut it. It’s a _good_ look for you.” He’s been letting it grow, and the loose ringlets are currently long enough to hang just past the tops of his shoulders. 

He sweeps the strands back, a little self-consciously it seems to Jane, but he smirks at her all the same when she gives in to the need to go over and wind her fingers into the inky mass.

She drowns happily in the hot press of his lips on hers, but just when her hands start to slide hungrily up his back he pulls back slightly, murmuring reluctantly against her lips: “Time enough for that later, my love. For now the Queen and her Consort await us.”

Jane tries her best to quell her anxiety as she and Loki follow after yet another attendant in the soft grey robes that seem to be the uniform of the Palace servants.

_ C’mon Jane, you’ve been around Asgardian royalty more than a few times. How much different can this be? _ But even as she attempts to convince herself, she knows that this is a horse of a completely different colour. She’d met Odin and Frigga for the first time under very _in_ formal and stressful circumstances, so nobody could have criticized her for not knowing protocol. In addition, she’d already suspected that Frigga would be on her side no matter what (and that Odin would be a write-off no matter what). In many of the other situations, Thor had also been there to help ease any awkwardness Jane had felt.

But here she has no friends other than Loki, no sympathetic in-laws, and these elves are just so…different. _Say what you will about Asgardians, but take away the god-like brawn and the ‘magic’, and they aren’t so different in their behaviour and appearance from us humans._

It does relieve her slightly to discover that their dinner with the Queen is very nearly just that; instead of a Hall crowded to the brim with elves, it’s just her and Loki, the Queen and her consort, and four other couples who the Queen introduces to her as the members of her Council of Matrons. _This society is a matriarchy!_ Jane realizes then in admiration. _Too bad that’s not ‘a thing’ back home._

Despite the size of the dinner party, there’s virtually enough food to feed an entire Hall of Asgardians, and it’s just as elegant and grand as Jane might have expected; the plates are of a heavy gold-toned wood that subtly shimmers in the light of the torches and the massive fireplace on one side of the room, and all the glasses and utensils are of the most expertly faceted crystal. In an alcove on the other side of the room sits a group of musicians playing soft music on bizarrely wonderful instruments. One elf holds what looks like a guitar, though it has eight strings, while another is playing what looks like flute that’s been split in half, although one part of the flute is off to the side, and the other extends in front of the musician much like a recorder from Earth. Then there’s the instrument which looks like a cello with three strings, but the body of the instrument is spherical.

Jane is less taken aback by the food. The slab of meatiness under a ruby-red sauce turns out to be a type of fungus, and the knobby things next to it are obviously some kind of potato, but the fact that light elves are apparently vegetarian doesn’t shock her at all. _Any race of beings who have gone to all the trouble of living in a floating city to avoid leaving a ‘footprint’ on the planet, is probably_ not _going to be all that keen on killing animals for food._

The conversation flows easily during dinner ( _Thank God for Loki’s silver tongue_ ), but Jane remains on edge. The Queen’s attention is focused more on Jane than on Loki or indeed anyone else at the table. It’s as nerve-wracking as being the center of attention in a Hall full of people. 

_ Will I ever get used to this? _ she grumbles to herself as she clutches Loki’s hand under the table, her fingers and palm damp with sweat. He squeezes her hand reassuringly from time-to-time and smiles at her though it doesn’t help that much.

Then comes the moment of truth, “So,” the Queen declares as the servants clear away the dessert dishes – a delicious green and spongy mousse made from a local plant – and make another pass to fill their crystal goblets with a sweet-smelling fermented beverage. “I can contain my curiosity no longer. Please tell me the tale of Thanos’ defeat. And spare absolutely _no_ detail.” She leans forward impatiently in her chair.

_ Oh crap, she’s looking at _ me. Jane turns a pleading gaze on Loki, silently begging him. He’s a better story-teller than her, right? 

But he only smirks slightly and inclines his head courteously in her direction. _Bastard._

Jane sighs inwardly. Of course he enjoys watching her squirm- _Oh crap._

Where does she begin, and how much do they know about Loki here? Do they know about the thorny issue of his Frost Giant heritage, and how Thanos had revealed it during the last battle? _Can I get away without mentioning the Frost Giant thing at all, assuming they don’t already know? If they don’t know, I’m not sure it’s my place to tell them._

_ If they do know, would they be more sympathetic than the Asgardians are?  _ She just doesn’t have enough variables to solve this equation. _And the Queen is waiting!_

Luckily at that moment the obvious occurs to her and Jane inhales in relief. “Just so I don’t bore you, maybe you should let me know first what you’ve already heard? I don’t know how far back I should start.”

“We know little enough,” the Queen replies, but she’s smiling in a pleasant way. Then she tells a very different tale from what Jane has come to know as the truth. That after centuries of peace the Jotuns had breached Odin’s Vault during Thor’s attempted coronation, and that a young and brash Thor had led a party of Asgardian warriors into Jotunheim in retaliation, against Odin’s express orders.

That Odin had sent Thor in mortal form to Earth to learn wisdom, and then Odin had fallen into the Sleep and Loki had assumed the throne.

The Queen pauses, her expression more somber now. “The new King came up with a novel plan to secure his Realm against attack by the Jotuns. His goal was to destroy their home using the power of the Bifröst. But this power proved too difficult to control, and the Asbru Bridge broke, casting the new King and the Bifröst into the Void between the Realms.” The Queen’s eyes shift to Loki. “And he was believed dead.”

Throughout the Queen’s tale Loki sits still in his chair, his face unreadable. Is this the official tale that Asgard has been feeding the other Realms?

“I have never understood how you could have done something so rash,” one of the younger Matrons interrupts then, her tone strident. She had been introduced as Be’lanu ren Sor’a, Jane remembers.

“Be’lanu!” The Queen interjects, her brows coming together. “That is hardly the way to speak to guests-”

“No, you are right, Matron,” Loki agrees amiably, though maybe it’s only Jane who notices the annoyance in the depths of his eyes. “Rash it does seem to me now as well, though at the time I only thought to defend Asgard against what seemed like an insurmountable threat. And to protect the other Realms as well, given I judged it likely that should the Jotuns have defeated Asgard, they would then decide to turn their attention to conquering other, more… _peaceful_ Realms.” 

Jane’s not sure if Loki intends the last remark as a veiled warning, but the Queen apparently is on Loki’s side, if her next remark is anything to go by: “A fair prediction, my Prince. We all know how often the Jotuns have gone to war in the past.” The Queen shoots a look at the Matron. “As you know all too well, Be’lanu, Queens and Kings are not infallible. That is why I have the Council, is it not?”

“Would that we had a similar Council on Asgard,” Loki adds silkily, and Jane can tell he’s fallen back into perfect diplomatic mode. “Perhaps I would have made a different decision. Alas, that has never been the custom on Asgard. My- the _All-_ Father has tended to rely, if he does at all, merely on the counsel of Frigga and sometimes, when the mood strikes, on that of myself and Thor.” Loki shrugs gracefully. 

“We can discuss such affairs of state at another time, if there is much desire to do so,” The Queen cuts in, sending another warning look to Be’lanu when it looks like the other woman is about to speak again. “For now, if it pleases you Prince Loki, let us return to the matter at hand. I am keen to learn what transpired after your fall into the Void, because it is from that point that the gossip and half-truths begin.”

_ If only you knew, _ Jane thinks, still mystified about the backstory the Queen had related to them. _I’ll definitely have to ask Loki about that later._

“I did not die, clearly,” Loki points out, his expression darkening, “Instead, I ran afoul of Thanos’ slaves. Sometimes I think that death would have been far preferable.” He falls silent for a second, lids lowered as he thinks over his next words. “In time I was brought before Thanos and subjected to his unique methods of… _persuasion_. I will spare you the details, but suffice it to say that in the end I felt I had little choice but to agree to his plans to attack Midgard to gain the Tesseract. Though all along, I was hatching my own plans.” A familiar smirk hovers on his lips again.

He continues for a few more minutes, filling the Queen and Council in briefly on the Avengers and the Battle of New York. Just as Jane is starting to think she might be in the clear he turns to her with an expectant smile, gesturing for her to take over. _Oh great. He must’ve read my mind._ She glares at him but he only leans back in his chair, steepling his hands and nodding at her, glee dancing in the depths of his eyes. “I have stolen enough of Jane’s thunder, and I shall let her take over the tale now.”

The attention of everyone at the table immediately centers on Jane, and she feels that damned blush starting again. _I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him._ she decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and reviews are always appreciated, and help me keep up my motivation to continue this fic.


	5. Ever forgotten be men's former deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fun and games of various sorts on Alfheim. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all, except for the occasional OC.

“W-well, uh, Loki and I met after he, uh, escaped from Asgard and came back to Earth,” Jane explains after a long and uncomfortable (at least for her!) silence. She decides to just forge ahead so she can get this the hell over with, hoping nobody will notice in the torchlight how her blush is deepening even more at the memory of those early days. 

“I was working on a…well, I guess you could call it a Bifröst of my own, since Ear- _Midgard_ , doesn’t have one. Well, didn’t at the time, anyway,” she corrects herself clumsily, fully aware that she’s rambling.

“‘Building a Bifröst’? By yourself? How remarkable! Small wonder you captured Prince Loki’s heart so completely.” The Queen grins broadly at Loki.

“Well, anyway,” Jane continues, blushing even harder now, “Loki and I…fell in love.” She can see him smirking from the corner of her eye as he raises his goblet to his mouth, but that’s the least embarrassing way to categorize the early days of their ‘arrangement’. _And if he prefers a different label for it, then he should’ve kept on with the story-telling._

“Loki knew it was only a matter of time before Thanos made another try at getting the Tesseract, so he and I and SHIELD – that is, a government agency that protects Midgard – tried to come up with a plan to deal with that, but before we could,” Jane pauses to take another anxious breath, “one of Thanos’ goons found me.”

“The Other,” Loki supplies, his voice hardening, and his hand finds Jane’s under the table again, pressing it comfortingly.

“Yes, we have heard tell of that beast,” Ar’tora declares with a curl of her lip.

Everyone turns back expectantly to Jane, so she picks up the tale again. First she describes how Loki recruited help from Thor and Asgard to rescue her, (though she leaves out the part about Loki dumping her and then running to Asgard with his tail between his legs!). She chooses to skip ahead to how the defenders of Earth decided it would be necessary for Jane to finish her portal, so that both Earth and Asgard could ally against Thanos and his forces if necessary. 

She’s uncomfortably aware of how many things she’s glossing over, if not outright lying about, but she doesn’t feel she has much of a choice. _Why the hell am I the one who has to do this? Why not Mr. God of Lies? I’m far more likely to jam my foot into my mouth!_

Loki, however, is just sitting there and giving her absolutely _no_ help, so Jane steels herself to tell the rest as vaguely as she feels she can get away with. She explains to her rapt audience of Queen, Consort and Council how Thanos had already been on Asgard, and how he had hijacked Jane’s portal to yank her into his clutches. 

But here the Queen interrupts, looking uncomfortably over at Loki. “I feel I must apologize, Prince Loki. We of Alfheim wanted to help, but by the time word of the attack on Asgard reached us, it was too late. Asgard was overrun, and we knew ourselves to be sorely outnumbered by the Chitauri. Not to mention the might of the Infinity Gauntlet.” Her lip curls once more. “Still, given all Asgard has done for Alfheim, I urged the Council of Matrons to call an attack, but I was outvoted.”

Be’lanu and several other Matrons look offended, while the remaining Matrons are nodding and expressing support for their Queen, but Loki holds up a hand and clears his throat loudly, before inclining his head respectfully to the Queen. “Asgard has and always will value its peaceful relationship with Alfheim,” he says smoothly. “And rest assured that your reticence to engage with Thanos is entirely understandable. Sometimes difficult choices must be made in order to protect lives. Having seen and heard tell of how Thanos lay countless enemies low, I am the last person on Asgard who will fault your Council for their caution,” he adds tactfully.

“We thank Asgard for its understanding,” the Queen answers, though she looks dissatisfied still as she turns back to Jane with a sigh. “Do go on, Princess Jane. I eagerly await the conclusion of this tale.”

It’s easy enough for Jane to tell them about how Asgard and ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ had attacked Thanos’ forces. But once she gets to the part about Loki attacking Thanos, she has to think quickly what to tell them, without spilling Loki’s secrets.

“Loki tried to get me away but Thanos blasted him with the Tesseract. Loki was trying to stab Thanos with his knives, or blast him with magic, but everything Loki tried just bounced off Thanos’ energy shield. And two Chitauri soldiers were holding me, so I could do nothing but stand there and watch. But then-” Jane takes a deep breath and focuses on her lap, “Hawkeye – one of the Avengers, that is – shot both of the Chitauri dead, and in the meantime Thanos had been arrogant enough to drop the force-field so he could strangle Loki, and I, well...” Jane pauses again, hoping the Queen buys her fabrication, “I was so angry and frightened I just grabbed a dagger from the floor and shoved it into Thanos’ back. They tell me I got lucky, that I happened to hit Thanos in just the right spot to get him in the heart.” Jane can’t help the note of apology creeping into her voice. _Some ‘warrior’ I am._

But when Jane glances up from her hands she realizes everyone at the table, even Loki, are leaning forward in their chairs and hanging on every word. 

“Uh, a-a-and so Thanos died, but not before one of the Chitauri stabbed me in retaliation. And if it hadn’t been for Loki’s magic, well, I, uh, I would’ve _died_.” Her last words are quiet as her hand searches for his under the table again. Finding it, she squeezes his fingers tight, silently thanking him for the thousandth time.

“A truly remarkable tale,” the Queen marvels, sitting back in her chair and twisting her goblet around and around thoughtfully in her hands. “You may not believe yourself a warrior – I can see it in your eyes – but you are wrong, Princess. It is not that a true warrior never feels fear; it is that a true warrior acts in _spite_ of their fear.”

“I have told Jane as much on more than one occasion,” Loki agrees with a chuckle. “But perhaps the words of a Queen will carry more weight with her.” Jane blushes all over again and elbows Loki in the side as she tries not to stammer her thanks to Ar’tora.

“Battles are not always won by the strongest or fastest,” the Queen concurs. She gets up from her seat and, as if on cue, the other people at the table mirror her. Jane scrambles to mimic _them_. “But now the hour grows late. I thank you for the rousing tale, Prince Loki and Princess Jane, and I bid you both a good starshine.”

Loki executes an elegant bow that Jane envies as she drops into an awkward curtsey. When he sweeps her off down the hallway and back towards their suite at last, Jane permits herself to sigh in relief. “Thank God that’s over,” she mutters out of the side of her mouth to Loki. “No thanks to _you_.” She levels a sour glare at him.

He smirks, of course. “Sadly, as you are now a member of the royal family, there are certain functions you will always be expected to attend. I thought you acquitted yourself rather well, despite your low birth.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jane scowls. “And that’s not what I mean, and you _know_ it.” He’s close enough to let her take the opportunity to elbow him hard in the side. Again.

He pretends her pitiful jab has actually hurt him, gasping softly as he recoils, though he grins. “Would it help if I said I knew of something that would improve your present mood?” he deflects.

Jane raises a brow at him, debating if she should rake him over the coals now or later. _This had better be good._ “Oh really?”

“Oh yes,” he assures her in low and lecherous tones. “Come, let me show you.”

*~*~*

Loki manages to surprise her again; his ‘something to improve her mood’ has nothing at all to do with making love (or not yet, anyway). Which is good, because in her current state of annoyance with him over letting her twist in the wind in front of Queen and Council, she’s pretty sure she’d tell him where to stick it…and that wouldn’t be anywhere near _her_.

But instead he conjures a cloak of dark green lined with sable fur, wraps it around her shoulders, and guides her back through the enclosed glass walkway and massive dome once more. At last he leads her through one of the dome’s side-doors and out onto the wide grassy plain Jane spotted earlier.

This time there are no horned horses or elves. There’s only the silvered grasses exuding their perfume and the shadowy outline of the fence that encircles the field. Beyond those, puffs of clouds still stubbornly mark the city’s edges. 

Above them the stunning expanse of Alfheim’s sky arches cloudlessly. The moon – Loki tells her the elves call it O’athe - shines down from the upper reaches of the heavens now, so large that even when Jane holds up a hand and stretches out her fingers as wide as she can, it only _just_ covers the palely glowing celestial body.

No longer buried by the need to act sociable among strangers (and alien ones, at that), Jane’s excitement rises again. _This is really happening. I’m on an alien planet with an alien sun and moon. And this is only the beginning. I’m going to see the rest of the universe…well, at least ‘the universe’ according to Asgardian cosmology._

It’s a far better outcome than she’d ever dared hope for, back in the bad old days when she’d been scrounging incessantly for funding, and for acceptance from her peers in academia. _Back then,_ _I would’ve given anything to just be able to create a portal that_ worked _. Even if it went nowhere interesting, it would’ve been enough just to glimpse somewhere other than Earth, and to know that_ I _was the one who got us there. Dad would’ve been so proud._

The stars above them blur as Jane dashes moisture out of her eyes. “Jane?” Loki asks, concern filtering into his voice, but Jane shakes her head. “I’m good,” she assures him, clearing her throat. “No, I’m _better_ than good.” 

She looks back up into the alien skyscape. The massive, pale yellow moon is not the only wonder. There’s not a single constellation Jane recognizes, not to mention there’s at least twelve stars in the sky that she’s pretty sure can be classified as O-Type stars. Jane also counts eight nebulas of various sizes and colours. 

And that’s all just from _this_ viewpoint on Alfheim. 

Silently Loki spreads his cape on the scented grasses and conjures her satchel, handing her the telescope she brought with her, as well as a notebook and pen. “Thanks,” she says, grinning down at him. He’s turning into quite the lab assistant, though Jane decides it’s best not to inflate his ego any further by telling him so. Besides, he still has to answer for what happened at dinner, though Jane figures a little ‘science break’ is more important than giving him hell right this second.

Jane’s sure at least an hour passes as she scribbles a rough diagram of the Alfheim constellations in one of the new notebooks she brought with her, making sure to indicate all the main celestial features. She asks Loki the names of each star and nebula and he answers all her questions patiently. She takes measurements with the equipment she brought, and snaps the best still images she can manage with her SLR camera, as well as attempting to take a video of the night sky (the quality is not great, but it’s better than nothing).

At last the cramping in Jane’s writing hand becomes too much for her and she sighs, setting her gear aside and lying down next to Loki, cuddling into his side as he wraps an arm around her. “Is your thirst for knowledge sated for the moment?” he inquires, the corner of his mouth quirking.

“Uh, _no_?” Jane retorts, shaking out her sore hand. “I want to know where the Queen got that story about you. The one about you trying to destroy Jotunheim, I mean,” she clarifies. She glances around anxiously, but they’re still alone. No witnesses. “You and I both know why you really did it.” _Because you hate that part of yourself_ , she thinks but doesn’t say.

Loki chuckles dryly. “Though I am reputed by your people to be the God of Lies, that particular set of lies did not come from me.” She turns to face him but he’s looking steadfastly up, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “It is the ‘official’ story that Odin had circulated among the populace, while they all thought me dead. Admitting that the throne of Asgard had been held, for however brief a time, by a Jotun savage is not something the All-Father would ever voluntarily divulge,” he growls, his voice turning hard.

_ You don’t know that for sure _ , Jane wants to say. But she can’t be sure either, so she stays silent on that point, if not the next one: “Then maybe you should have, I don’t know, _told_ me the ‘official’ version? What if I had told the elves the wrong thing? And what about the battle with Thanos and how we beat him? I could’ve easily screwed that up, too!”

“I suppose regarding the first part of the tale, I thought it to be common knowledge – or perhaps more accurately, _belief_ – among those Realms interested in such details. Therefore I could not have predicted Ar’tora’s interest. Though I admit my attention has been rather…. _diverted_ from matters of court of late. What with all the kidnapping and rescuing of Midgardian scientists, and the battling of despots who threaten the very integrity of the universe, and such.” Here he pauses and gives her a wink that can only be described as ‘cheeky’.

“Don’t think that just because you saved my life that I’m going to let you get away with putting me on the spot like that, mister.” Jane growls. “I don’t even know how you could have let me tell the story. In your place, I would’ve been terrified that I’d – _me_ , I mean – would’ve made a gaffe.”

Loki shrugs. “You know well Odin’s antipathy for what I am. An intellect as keenly honed as yours would easily deduce that such a detail would have been kept from the official retelling. And that such should be omitted from our victory over Thanos as well.”

Jane rolls her eyes as she sits up and turns to face him. “Your flattery won’t work on me, Loki. I’m immune by now.”

He grins unrepentantly up at her. “Oh? Would you credit my words more, if I claimed instead that any deviation in your recounting of the saga I would have explained away by the trauma of your near-death experience, and how it must have clouded your memory of the true events?”

Jane snorts and smacks him on the shoulder. “Always an answer for everything.”

“Of course,” he agrees loftily. “Have I not a reputation to uphold?”

Mentally, she throws up her hands. He is who he is, and there’s little point wasting her energy trying to teach him any kind of lesson. She figures she’s better off expanding her knowledge base on things that might actually be useful. “Whatever you say,” Jane sighs in resignation, looking up into the skies again. “Why do the Elves call Thanos an ‘Abomination’?” she asks after a moment.

“The Light Elves value life above all else. Why otherwise would they choose to live in the skies, and consume only plants as sustenance? But Thanos was desirous only of war and death. The destruction of all living things, as an offering to his Mistress. In that fashion, all he represented is inimical to them.”

Jane nods. “I guessed as much. And that reminds me – _Light_ Elves?” she prods him in the side with her toe. “Or are you going to keep leaving me in suspense?”

The moonlight gleams off his teeth as he grins. “Is their physical appearance not as you expected, my Jane?”

“Some of it, sure. The pointy ears? That’s classic.” Here Jane has to wonder too: _How exactly do humans have tales of elves, complete with the pointed ears? Have the Elves ever visited Earth in the past? But one question at a time,_ she decides. “Everything else, not so much. Why would elves with black skins be called _light_ elves? C’mon, spill.” She prods him again, harder this time.

“Oh, there are several tales about that, and even I am not sure which I believe in most strongly. Shall I tell them all to you and allow you be the judge, favoured wife?”

“Why not?”

The first story he tells her is one Frigga told him as a child: how the Light Elves were born of light, and the Dark Elves of the darkness. “There is even a poem I found once in the Library, which describes how the Dark Elves were pale as milk, so that they could locate each other more easily in dimness, whereas the Light Elves were burned black by the brilliance that gave them life.”

“Wait just a second, the Dark Elves are…white? White as snow?” Jane shakes her head. _OK, that makes no sense either._ _Who’s in charge of naming stuff around here?_

“So the legends tell us. I myself have never seen a Dark Elf in the flesh. My fa- _Odin’s_ father Bor slaughtered all the Dark Elves many centuries past, fighting for possession of a weapon of unimaginable power. But the drawings and descriptions that we have of that extinct race all depict the Dark Elves as being ‘frost-white of skin and hair’.”

“Huh,” Jane muses. 

“I can, however, propose another reason for the seemingly counterintuitive naming,” Loki continues. “Cut a Light Elf, and their blood is pale, and glows faintly in full darkness. This I did witness in my youth, during a minor skirmish where Alfheim and Asgard united against the hordes of Vanaheim. The blood of the Dark Elves, in contrast, has been described many times in the tales and poems as being black as pitch.”

“I guess that’s not so hard to buy,” Jane concurs.

“But perhaps simplest of all – and thus perhaps truer than all other tales – is merely this: that the Light Elves adore the light, and Life. While the Dark Elves were named for their wish to extinguish the Universe, and return all back into Darkness.”

“Wow, that’s… _ambitious_ ,” Jane replies, struggling to find the right word.

Loki nods. “Yet foolish. That was the cause of their war with Asgard, a battle which ultimately led to their end. The weapon that they sought, the Dark Elves intended to use it to empty all life from our Universe, to render it into the Void beyond Yggdrasil’s branches.”

A chill glides up Jane’s spine and she shivers. “Something tells me Thanos and the Dark Elves would’ve gotten along just fine.”

Loki sits up and pulls Jane into the circle of his arm, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Initially, perhaps. But I have no illusions that before long Thanos would have begun offering Dark Elves to his Mistress Death. Or that the Elves would have decided that, once his usefulness to them had expired, that he too deserved to be unmade. It is the nature of such unions.”

She draws a shaky breath, realizing that she’s growing very tired of thinking about _anything_ related to Thanos. 

As is so often the case, she finds her refuge in the scientific. “If you’ll forgive me for changing the subject, how is it so, well, _comfortable_ out here? It should be _freezing_ and hard to breathe. Unless Alfheim has a very different atmosphere from Earth…”

Loki smiles down at her. “If I say it is due to magic, will you attempt to strike me again?”

Jane groans and pushes away from Loki, snagging her notebook from the folds of his cape. She flips it open, using the bright light of O’athe to scrawl a few notes. _Floating city = ‘magic’. Livable atmosphere outside the city = ‘magic’,_ she writes in her nearly incomprehensible chicken-scratches (or so Darcy has often complained). “Magic, magic, magic,” she mutters gloomily to herself. “Is Earth the only damn planet in the universe where _science_ reigns?”

“Considering how magic, and what you call ‘science’, are intertwined on Asgard, I fail to see how they can be so very different. Even as I admit that I seem to lack the vocabulary to express magic in terms you can understand at a rational level.”

Jane chuckles. “Are you saying I can understand it at an _irrational_ level?”

Loki raises a brow as he leans back onto his elbows, fixing her with an intense gaze. “Do you not? You are exquisitely sensitive to the _presence_ of magic, if not to grasping the intricacies of harnessing it for your own purposes.”

“Why, is that weird? Can’t other humans sense magic?” Jane knows exactly what Loki is talking about. There’d been the _prickle_ of the Light Elves’ teleporter, the bizarre sensation she’d experienced just before The Other had grabbed her, and even the day long ago when Thor and Loki had fought each other behind her trailer. Not only had she detected something weird about the air, but she’d been able to pierce the veil of Loki’s cloaking spell. _Yeah, after nearly giving myself a splitting headache. Jane Foster, the next Hogwarts graduate? Hardly._

“While it is rare for your fellow Midgardians to be capable of wielding magic, it is not entirely unheard of. I find it strange then, that you yourself are so receptive to magical energy, and yet…understanding how to bend it to your will eludes your grasp so easily.”

“Uh, thanks? I guess?” She frowns down at him. While she’s pretty sure he’s not trying to insult her or anything, it’s hard not to bristle at the _way_ he’s saying it.

He smiles disarmingly, his voice turning low and coaxing. “Forgive my evidently poor choice of words, my love. I only meant that given your apparent sensitivity, I would have thought it would be easier for you to manipulate magic, or at least to learn to understand its shapes and forms as I do. Compared to those among your people without any such sensitivity, that is.”

What he’s saying seems logical, she’ll give him that. “Maybe it’s just my years of research training,” Jane suggests, shrugging. “I’m observant, which is a necessary skill for a scientist. Heck, maybe our Earth ‘science’ is just a different kind of ‘magic’. It’s not like _you_ understand how my portal works, right?”  

“Yes and no. I can comprehend the flow of energies and of forces required.” He holds up his hand and green fire spills from his palm, dripping onto his cape and pooling harmlessly in the hills and dunes of the fabric. 

Transfixed, she watches the flames crawl towards her, not even realizing she’s reaching out to them until they lick coolly against her fingertips. “One could say,” Loki murmurs, his eyes intent on her hand as the fire plays around it, “that I – and other Asgardian magic users – feel and understand magic at an _instinctual_ level. Perhaps that is what you possess, if in a lesser form. But to attempt to _describe_ magic, to endeavor to capture its essence in mere words and numbers, as you do in your _science_ …” He motions with his hand, and the tiny green tongues of light die out. “It seems to me to serve little purpose. Perhaps I would feel different, if I were more inclined to record my spells for future generations of mages to employ.”

“So some magic-users _have_ tried to describe magic in a written form?” 

“Indeed. When next we visit Asgard I will show you the spell-books I have collected over the millennia. I myself can learn spells set down in written fashion, and twist them to my own ends. But to attempt to teach the basic workings of magic to another, as Moth- _Frigga_ did with me, well…” He shakes his head slightly as he uproots a blade of grass, shredding it between dexterous fingers. “I never felt the need.”

“You like your secrets,” Jane blurts out, before she can think better of it.

His gaze flicks over at her, a smirk growing on his lips. “I have a reputation to uphold, do I not?”

Jane snorts. “Oh yeah? Which one? Loki, the Wizard? Loki, the Prince of Lies? Or maybe Loki, God of Kinky Sex?” She pokes him in the side with a toe, teasing this time.

His gaze darkens. “All of the above?” he suggests in a purr that causes goosebumps to bloom all along Jane’s back and arms. 

Then he _pounces_.

In a blur of green, black and gold Jane finds herself on her back in the grass, Loki’s lips searing a trail down her throat. “Wha- Uh- _Here_?” She squeaks.

He raises his head just a little, the tips of his hair swinging against her cheeks in the breeze. “Why not?” he inquires. “We have consummated our desires in the outdoors before, as I recall.”

_ He’s not talking about-  _ Her pulse speeds up as she remembers _that_ particular encounter. A game of cruel master and defiant slave. 

“Wait, that was real? I mean, really _outdoors_? I thought you said it was all an illusion.” Funny how she’d never stopped to actually think about it before. Where exactly could they have been? In some other dimension, created temporarily by Loki’s magic? An illusion that had, for all its realism, only taken place in her mind? 

Or had he taken her to a real forest on Earth (or _here!?_ ) and used his powers to hide them from prying eyes?

A predatory smile stretches his lips. “Does it matter? As I recall, unless I am much mistaken, you enjoyed the experience immensely.”

Jane swallows hard. “I did,” she admits.

“Do you wish for something of a repeat performance, my love?” 

“Uh,” Jane stalls, glancing around nervously.

“Do not fear, there are many secluded spots on Alfheim. I searched them out while I visited in my youth.” His hands close on her hips and without warning her vision whites out, a brief dizziness clouding her senses. 

She has time to blink once, then twice, before her vision returns. They’re back in the forest, in a clearing hemmed in by the golden trees. When Jane looks quickly around, even from her position under Loki she can tell there’s no flat rock in the center, nor a pool of bird-fishes, so this must be a new place they haven’t visited before.

Loki rolls nimbly off of her, coming to his feet, and Jane realizes he’s back in his habitual armor. He circles her languidly in a way that makes her heart pick up the pace, pounding in her chest. “I will, of course, ensure that we are not discovered. Or disturbed.” His grin flashes like a knife-blade. 

Jane shifts up onto her hands and knees, not really startled to discover she’s back in the jeans and shirt she wore when they first arrived on Alfheim. “I don’t know,” she argues, folding her arms across her chest and fixing him with a glare. “I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you yet for letting me take all that heat at dinner. Maybe I want to make you _work_ for it.” She raises a challenging brow at him.

He laughs huskily. “Do I not always, dearest wife?” He spreads his hands and sidles closer. Moonlight beaming down from above coaxes random gleams off his armour, and the trees whisper their secrets overhead.

“You like games, don’t you?” Jane counters, choosing to ignore his last comment and the promise it carries. “I have a simple one for you, we’ll make it like a game of tag. You play something like that on Asgard, right?” She grins right back at him, slowly coming to her feet and edging back towards the end of the clearing in response to every step he takes towards her. 

Loki raises a brow. “Indeed, though we call it ‘Hunt the Bilgesnipe’? Shall I assume you are to be the _prey_?” His teeth gleam at her.

Without answering, Jane turns and sprints into the woods behind her with a giggle. Or rather, she sprints for the first few seconds. Then she stumbles over a root, barely catching herself against a handy tree-trunk to prevent herself falling full-length into the leaves and dirt. _Isn’t this just typical,_ she thinks, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

Behind her, she can hear Loki counting. _Let’s hope he plans to stop on a_ big _number, or this’ll be over way too quick._

Jane starts off again, but it soon becomes evident that she can’t actually _run_. There’s no path, and the moonbeams coming through the canopy are too scattered to let her easily spot all the roots and rocks waiting to trip her up. Too easy to injure herself. _I’ll just have to find a way to slow him down,_ she decides, grinning to herself as she tries to shuffle along and shrug off her flannel shirt at the same time.

She stifles a giggle as she hangs the shirt from a convenient branch sticking out into her path. Behind her Loki shouts: “Your grace period has elapsed, little Jane! Here I come!”

Jane gasps and shifts into a trot, heart racing as she ducks past a collection of low bushes. She crouches down out of sight (she hopes), and quickly pulls her t-shirt up and over her head. Hanging it off the side of the nearest bush, she takes off in a new direction, perpendicular to her original path, squeezing carefully through the closely-spaced tree trunks.

Blood sings in her ears as she wonders how long she can keep Loki at bay (not long, most likely), and also what delicious things he’ll do to her when he catches her.

She stops a minute or two later, listening hard, but there’s no sound other than the leaves of the trees and the long grasses _shushing_ together. She whirls, hearing a twig snap behind her, but a few seconds pass and nothing happens, so she decides now would be a good time to lose her jeans. Jane’s glad there’s nobody around to watch her – as far as she knows, anyway - as she tries to get them down and off over her sneakers as quickly as she can.

Tossing the jeans over a nearby rock leaves Jane in only a bra, a pair of panties, and her socks and shoes. _I really really hope we’re alone, because if anyone else finds me like this--!_

She has to move much more slowly now so that she doesn’t scrape her bare arms or legs against the rough tree trunks or branches. _OK, maybe stripping down wasn’t the best idea,_ she chides herself, though the exhilaration spinning inside her says otherwise.

A chuckle like warm caramel slips through the leaves, and Jane feels a strong hand grope at her shoulder. She twists away with a bark of laughter as she spins off in a new direction, Loki’s amusement mirroring hers.

She manages to (because he _lets_ her) avoid three more attempts by Loki to capture her, but at one point she catches the toe of her sneaker in a root and just as she begins to tumble forward, lean arms loop around her waist and pull her back against him. They’re at the edge of another glade, or maybe it’s even the same one, for all she knows. Jane’s no expert at navigating forests, especially when she can’t even see the stars above her to use as a guide.

Something falls at her feet with a soft plop, and Jane looks down to see it’s a pile of her cast-off clothes. “Already half-disrobed for me? So thoughtful of you, my Jane,” he whispers, heated breath caressing her ear.

Far bolder than she used to be, she slides a hand between them, palming the hard ridge of his cock beneath the leather of his pants. “But you’re still fully clothed,” she breathes back with a smirk. “Some things never change, do they, _husband_?”

“Oh that is easily remedied, never fear,” he murmurs throatily, just before Jane registers the familiar tickle of magic between her bare skin and his armour. Then the cool skin of his chest is pressed against her.

His teeth scrape the side of her neck, and in a move so quick it leaves her reeling, she finds herself on her hands and knees in the grass in the middle of the glade. Loki is on his hands and knees as well, bent over her and bracing himself on one arm while the other remains firm around her waist. 

Harsh breathing sounds in her ear as his hold on her loosens, his hand beginning to wander aimlessly over her skin. Jane digs her nails into the turf when his touch grazes across a peaked nipple still covered by rough lace. When he pinches it, applying just the right mixture of pleasure and pain, Jane arches up into him, making a sound that’s just short of a squeal.

Then, inspired by a mischievous impulse of her own, she shoves his hand aside and attempts to crawl away from him, looking back over her shoulder with a teasing grin.

“Oh, there’s no escape, little one,” he hisses in threatening tones though he’s smiling. A grip of iron encircles her ankle, preventing her _very_ half-hearted getaway. “Minx,” he accuses her with mirth in his voice. “You leave me no choice but to _restrain_ you.”

He pulls her back underneath him, his arm looping like an iron band around her waist once more, his other hand braced on the ground beneath them again. He exhales a cold breath against her back and somehow the catch of her bra gives, the cloth falling open and dropping into the grass. Then Loki pulls her hands behind her, trapping her wrists together between in his powerful fingers.

She tugs even though she knows how useless it is, just to enjoy the sensation of being at his mercy, and warmth pools between her legs. A breeze flits through the clearing, teasing at her newly-bared nipples, and Jane squirms happily, gooseflesh pebbling her skin.

“On the subject of magic, it is unwise to provoke a mage, wife of mine,” he whispers into her ear. “There are so many ways I can employ it to bend you to my will. Observe.”

Jane’s heart jumps as something wriggles across her back from out of nowhere, though she then realizes Loki has conjured one of his little snakes. It interlaces itself around her wrists, its smooth scales caressing her, but for once it doesn’t change into rope. She can feel it, warm and alive, shifting subtly against her skin, moving and breathing as she does. 

Loki’s hand closes on her shoulder, pulling her back tighter against him, keeping her rather precariously balanced on her knees. “In fact it just occurred to me,” he croons, and his tongue darts out to toy wetly with her earlobe, “that as we are already revisiting some past delights, there are some other…tricks of mine of which you seemed fond. And myself as well.” She can feel his wicked grin against the side of her neck.

Jane’s breath hitches at his words. _Oh. My._ God. _Does he mean-_

A shiver travels up her back just as another small snake births itself somewhere between their bodies. Loki shifts back a fraction, and Jane is exquisitely aware of the path of the serpent as it slips up her spine, twining idly up her back. It slides around her throat, but then it changes, first stilling, and then cooling and hardening into another familiar sensation.

Jane wets her lips. “Is that-?”

“A twin to the torc that was broken, and to the ring you now bear as a token of my love? Yes. Though I swear an oath to you, my wife, that _this_ trinket will come off your lovely throat whenever you will it to.”

“You’re always so thoughtful,” Jane jokes, though she’s deeply touched that he remembered. “And here I didn’t get _you_ anything,” she adds laughingly, trying to distract herself before she ruins the moment by doing something corny like crying or something.

“Oh, you’ll be gifting me with _something_ shortly, I have little doubt of that,” he growls. “Perhaps one of your delectable screams of pleasure?”

Jane giggles in answer, her amusement breaking off into a sharp inhale as another, larger snake now glides off Loki’s body and onto hers. She freezes, all her attention focused on its path as it slides down over her hip, her core throbbing in anticipation. 

It glides across the thin fabric of her panties, scales catching on the fabric and pulling it taut against the aching little bead of her clit. It chafes her in just the _right_ way, a low groan spilling out of her throat as she twists back against Loki.

He laughs, shifting both his weight and hers back as the snake retreats so that his hand can come up off the ground. His nimble fingers find the front of her panties, pulling the garment into a thin band that slides between her folds.

“Loki!” she gasps, hips bucking helplessly as he works the lace against her most sensitive spot, tugging it back and forth. Sweat dews her skin, more gooseflesh rising as another breeze drifts through the clearing, teasing her in its own way. 

She’d almost forgotten the snake, but it hasn’t forgotten her. It’s been coiled around her waist as Loki plays with her, but now it begins to move higher, rising up her body until its scales massage across her breasts. Her nipples throb, sending a jolt of pleasure down her body, and Jane can feel it now, the gathering heat inside her, ready to explode the moment Loki tugs the fabric across her clit at just the right moment. She arches back against him, wordlessly begging.

Suddenly his hand jerks hard outward, tearing her panties open effortlessly. Jane starts to protest but it turns to a squeal when Loki nips her neck above the necklace, his long fingers pressing into her skin as he molds her into a new position.

She finds herself trying to balance on wobbly knees, and Loki spread out on the grasses underneath her, long and lean and rampant. If only her hands were free she could reach in front of her and palm his length, frustrate him as much as he’s frustrating her so deliciously, but the serpent around her wrists shows no signs of disappearing or loosening.

Jane looks down but the only part of Loki’s face that she can see is his evil grin. And then not even that, as his hands grasp her hips and guide her down until his talented tongue can dig into the tender folds between her thighs.

She gasps his name again, hips rocking as he takes her clit delicately between his teeth, tongue darting and stroking. The snake around her chest loosens and tightens its coils, flicking its quick tongue across her nipple. She’s at the edge again, the heat cresting from her center and starting to spill over, oh God she’s so, so very close, almost _there_ -

Loki sucks her clit into his mouth hard, swiping his tongue rhythmically across it, and Jane does indeed scream, toppling forward onto Loki’s belly as she spasms. 

The snakes around her wrists and chest disintegrate, and she can feel his satisfied chuckle against her inner thigh as she blinks sweat out of her eyes, breasts heaving as she attempts to slow her pulse. Strong fingers renew their grip on her hips, however, and even without the ability to read his expression, Jane can tell he’s going to try to shove her back over the edge again.

To buy a few seconds Jane runs her palm over the gleaming head of his cock, feeling him emit a pleased rumble against her slick skin. He lifts her up a bare inch so he can hum: “Oh yes, honoured wife. Do feel free to have your way with me. If you _can_.” There’s an unspoken challenge there, confirmed when he lowers her back down, eager tongue targeting her clit again, and now one clever hand slides up her body, pulling and tugging on a nipple. 

Jane grits her teeth against the distraction, licking her palm and curling it around the reddened shaft, stroking him with slow twisting motions of her hand. Beneath her his lungs stutter, which only encourages her to do it again, before she trails fingertips along the solid length of him, scratching lightly with her nails.

He’s lapping at her now, scouring her most sensitive spot with abandon, but Jane is determined to try to give as good as she gets, concentrating on keeping her balance as she pumps him with one hand, reaching with the other to skim her nails now over the taut flesh of his sac.

She’s going to lose this game, she realizes a moment later, because despite the moans Loki is trying to muffle, her own sounds are twice as loud and breathless. She makes a last ditch effort, stretching to take him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the pulsing head, but it’s too late. He pushes a finger deeply inside her, his tongue continuing to so sweetly torment her, and it’s all over.

Blood thunders in her ears and she’s pretty sure she screams again. Then the world turns sideways Jane finds herself face-down on her belly in the grass, Loki bend over her once more and pulling her back onto her hands and knees.

“This is what you reduce me to,” he snarls in her ear before he nips the lobe, spurts of his breath heating her skin in erratic bursts, “little more than a rutting beast. A god, brought so low by a mortal.” His hips press to hers, his shaft a searing brand against inner thigh as his teeth skate along her shoulder. “Though in truth I would not have it any other way.”

_ I am _ so _using that against him whenever he starts in on the ‘I-am-a-God’ crap_ , she thinks fleetingly. Then, sensing him teetering on the edge of control Jane reaches between her legs and guides him inside of her.

His first thrust is nearly violent enough to topple her forward, so she braces herself on her hands and pushes back, meeting him on every forward jab of his hips. 

Everywhere their bodies touch he feels hard and taut as steel, the heat of his skin radiating into hers, and not for the first time she finds it impossible to believe that his origins lie on a frozen planet.

On every thrust his heavy balls whip against her clit, sending a thrill of pleasure through her, while his shaft caresses every inch of her depths, and it’s not long before her head sags to the turf, her fingers white-knuckled as she holds on for dear life. He breathes raggedly into her neck, mouthing her name over and over against the side of it. “Come with me,” he urges her hoarsely, the searing heat of his touch pressing to her mound to massage her little nub one last time. 

His fingers dance over her in just the perfect way, and he pushes hard into her one final time, filling her to the brim. Feeling him pulsing inside her, Jane gasps out his name as she surrenders.

He stops, breathing unsteadily into the sweat-dampened hair at the base of her neck, shuddering. Then he uncoils from her, leaving her cold, but before she can mount more than a token protest he’s prone beneath her again, cradling her to his soaked chest.

Her eyes are heavy, and it’s amazingly difficult to raise her hand to stroke the sweat-drenched strands of raven hair back from his pale forehead. “There you go trying to kill me with multiple orgasms again,” she mumbles.

His laugh is loud, reverberating through her entire body. “Poor little Jane Foster of Midgard, saddled with such a brute. What a horrid husband I am.”

“Watch it, buddy,” she growls back half-heartedly, though the next sentence is one-hundred-percent sincere. “I may have to tie you down and return the favour sometime.”

His response is part snort, part chuckle. “Is that a threat, my love? Be assured that I tremble in fear and anticipation.”

Jane’s sole answer is a loud snore.

*~*~*

The next day in Cerrat dawns bright and clear, Jane bounding out of bed eager to examine more closely everything she only caught glimpses of the day before.

First Loki takes her on a tour of the Palace, which has several courtyards with more of those gorgeous crystal fountains. There's also a library that rivals the one Jane’s seen in Asgard, with towering pillars and what has to be at least fifteen floors of shelved tomes, each level accessible through a miniature version of the Elvish teleporter. _Much more efficient than climbing ladders,_ she thinks to herself.

The gardens behind the Palace, built on another of those expansive pasture-balconies (or so Jane soon comes to think of them) and nestled in cloud, is full of amazing new finds that Jane is quick to snap pictures of to show to Darcy and Erik (and hopefully the wider academic community!) later. 

The trees growing among the little man(elf?)-made streams are identical to the forests below, but the flowers are marvels; one species that Loki calls her attention to has petals that are nearly colourless, like plastic wrap, but they have a wonderful green iridescent sheen to them, and a scent to rival any rose Jane has ever appreciated on Earth. Then there are the tiny red flowers whose petals grow in such a way that they look like little globes, as well as a dark blue flower the size of Jane’s fist, which Loki tells her emits pale yellow light at night (he plucks a few so can they can observe the phenomenon in their bedroom later that evening).

Even this high in the sky, insects buzz about. Most seem to have either four legs or eight, their abdomens much larger in proportion to their bodies than anything Earth-bound, their wings thrumming like hummingbirds as they collect sap from the flowers. The bugs prudently avoid the true oddity of the whole garden: a carnivorous plant with an alluring perfume, but with razor-edged bumps and needle-like spikes on the inside of the bright yellow petals. Jane makes sure to give that one a wide berth too, especially since it's nearly as tall as she is, and the hungry flowers are as big as her head!

But that's nothing compared to what Loki shows her next. They return to the huge domed common area that they passed through the day before, this time taking a much more leisurely stroll. Loki lopes along beside her, hands clasped behind his back and an indulgent air about him while Jane talks and speculates excitedly about everything they stop to examine.

It is late morning by the time they return to the little cluster of merchants they passed yesterday. It’s definitely some sort of bazaar, with one stall selling jewels, another intricately painted clay pots, and a third displaying musical instruments, some familiar to Jane from dinner with the Queen the night before. The merchant next to those is selling foodstuffs and beverages of various types, and behind that set is another rank of stalls, where there are weavers, leatherworkers, a blacksmith, a toymaker, and what Loki identifies to Jane as an alchemist.

There’s even a small tent with tiny paintings small enough to fit into the palm of Jane’s hand. They remind her of a Monet exhibit Donald once dragged her to, saying she was ‘too uncultured for someone with a doctorate’.

Loki, predictably, urges her to acquire any item that suits her fancy, and the merchants are quick to make the Alfheim gesture of respect and fall over themselves to serve the Asgardian prince and princess. _When did I become a member of an intergalactic power couple?_ Jane reflects, trying not to feel self-conscious about the attentions of the sellers as she considers which of the confections at the food stall sound most intriguing. 

She finally selects one which reminds her of a pastry pocket, though it's filled with a sweet, slightly grainy paste that the merchant informs her is boiled-down bark from trees especially grown to provide food for the city populace. Loki himself selects a pitch-black sweet in the shape of a sphere, filled with a white cream that stretches like mozzarella when one takes a bite.

Jane also, once more with Loki's encouragement, buys a small version of the double flute she saw the musicians playing last night, as well as a pair of skillfully woven gloves that feel thin and fine as silk, but which the weaver promises her will keep her hands 'warm as the summer solstice, even in the coldest Jotunheim winter'. 

Loki himself purchases a bottle of pale blue liqueur at another stall, claiming that it is Frigga's favourite Alfheim drink, and Jane finds it very encouraging that Loki is doing something, well, _nice_ for a family member. Even if Jane is pretty convinced that out of all his family, Frigga was the one who was the least on his bad side.

What really fascinates Jane most about the bazaar is not the items themselves, but the method of payment. Or rather, the lack of it. The currency is apparently something called 'mir', as the merchants tell Loki that this item is 'five mir' or that the other item is 'eight-and-twenty mirren', and each time Loki nods and sends the item to his Interdimensional Closet...but Jane never sees him passing over any actual payment. But if the sellers are being stiffed, it doesn’t bother them at all; each time the merchant makes a notation in glowing yellow ink on a pad of writing material hanging from a belt, which each merchant wears, and then they simply nod to Loki and Jane and wish them a 'fair day'.

"OK, what the heck just happened?" she grills Loki after they leave the bazaar. "Is ‘mirren’ the Alfheim version of credit or something?"

Loki flashes a grin at her, tucking a loose lock of his hair back behind his ear. "Of a sort. The floating cities of Alfheim do not general employ currency, unlike you humans. It is far more imperative to feed the Source."

Jane blinks at the vaguely ominous-sounding phrase, though Loki seems unconcerned. "‘The Source’?"

"Of the city's power," he clarifies. "I am sure you can agree that it would be most disastrous should that power fail, and the city to fall from the sky?" He grins playfully at her shocked look.

"Please please tell me 'falling from the sky' doesn't happen often around here!" Jane blurts, her face reddening as a passing group of Elves look over at them and grin before continuing on their way.

Loki closes the distance between him and Jane and folds his hand around hers. "To my knowledge such has only happened once, and that _centuries_ ago. You may rest quite easy on that score, my love." He squeezes her hand gently. "Should you wish to see The Source? I must go there to render payment, and sooner is no worse than later."

"Sure, OK," Jane agrees, curious to meet this person who is keeping the city afloat.

Loki guides Jane towards an alcove at one side of the dome, across from the bazaar. Inside the alcove is a platform with rails, and after standing there for a moment, the platform rises smoothly into the air as Jane gasps in surprise and clutches more tightly at Loki's hand. It's an Alfheim elevator, apparently.

It’s soon evident that they’re in another building, one adjacent to the dome, and they pass six floors before the platform comes to a stop. Loki sweeps Jane through an arched doorway and into a hallway of wood and smooth stones, and finally into a large room almost the size of the Asgardian Observatory.

That's when she discovers that The Source is not a person, but a thing. It’s a giant ball of pale orange light, floating in the very center of the circular room. Every so often as they watch, a little bolt of energy shoots from the globe of light and into one of the holes set into the ceiling, the walls, or the floor around the globe, sizzling as it vanishes. 

Elves move around the rim of the room, standing on platforms similar to the one she and Loki are standing on, and Jane observes some of them raising their arms and closing their eyes. After a moment, more pale orange light coalesces around their hands, and then it streams towards the ball of light, joining with it. Their task finished, the Elves leave, only to be replaced by more Elves, who then feed the glowing ball in the same way.

"Wow," Jane breathes, fumbling for her video camera as Loki explains: "There are mages whose sole task in Cerrat is to feed the Source, to ensure that there is always enough power to keep the city aloft. But as you might imagine, such an exercise can be very taxing. So those with any measure of magical ability, such as myself, recompense any services and purchases by providing our power to the Source as well."

He waits patiently until she’s aiming her camera at him, and then he raises his hand, green light curling around his fingers. She watches closely, tracking the light as it leaves his fingers in a bright stream, arcing over to join the ball. For a handful of seconds the green light eddies around the circumference of the globe, giving it an appearance like the world’s largest soap bubble, and then Loki’s magic bleeds to orange like the rest of the ball.

Jane drops her video camera into her bag and pulls out her notebook, furiously scribbling notes in her scrawling shorthand. She taps the end of the pen against her lip as a thought occurs to her. "What about people _without_ magic, though? I mean, it's not like I can do that. Are all the Elves able to feed The Source?"

"Fully a third of all Light Elves lack such basic magic," he explains. "In such cases, a system of barter is employed instead." He pauses as Jane takes more notes, folding his hands behind his back and humming something too quiet for Jane to identify, until she stows the camera and notebook away and holds her hand out to him.

“Where to next?” she asks eagerly.  
 


	6. The Art of Lore: Chapter 5: Their might in war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Loki takes Jane to the Dark World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all, except for the occasional OC.

The next week passes in much the same way, in a blur of amazing discoveries for Jane. Through it all she documents as much as she can, uploading everything to her laptop nightly (thank God she brought her four terabyte external hard drive!) to make sure there's enough room on her cameras to take more pictures.

Among the highlights are Loki showing her the teleporter room again, and though one of the Elves tries to explain the process to her, most of it is incomprehensible to her, described in terms she can't easily translate into science. 

From what she _can_ glean, the Light Elves take magic from the Source to fuel the transporter discs, and that energy moves people from one disc to another as needed, but the actual mechanics of it don't make any sense to her. 

How can one quantify magical 'energy'? What are the physical properties of that energy? The limits on it? She has no clue where to begin, and quizzing Loki on it night after night is no help at all either. Most of his responses are along the lines of 'because that is the nature of magic' or 'because that is the nature of our universe', or Jane's current personal (un)favourite, 'because it just _is_ '. It frustrates Jane to no end, being faced with a problem she can’t even begin to solve. Though at least she has her own, proven portal at home, so that takes some of the edge off.

Another highlight, from a scientific perspective, is when Loki takes her to see the massive machines that keep the city aloft. They also take their power from the Source but this time the energy is translated somehow into thrust, though the output is much less noisy than anything Jane's seen on Earth, outside of the Helicarrier in stealth mode anyway. Tony would _kill_ to find out how they're pulling it off, Jane's sure. 

She also wonders at first why the Elves seem far less curious about her (beyond her apparent position as Asgardian royalty anyway) than she would have expected. Until Loki explains that the Light Elves visited Earth centuries ago, and therefore humans are not that mysterious to them (if rare to see on Alfheim itself). 

Looking back, however, Jane will later decide that the most thrilling moment of all during their Alfheim visit is something far more low-tech. It’s the day Loki takes her back to the first balcony-pasture they saw when they arrived here. 

An elf who introduces herself as Da'ia first brings over a small herd of those fascinating Alfheim horses. As they feed the animals with the Alfheim version of sugar cubes and scratch their long necks and around their horns, Loki explains that the two-horned ones are referred to as bicorns, the three-horned as tricorns, and the winged ones (regardless of the number of horns they have) as alicorns.

_ Darcy’s going to freak out when she sees the pictures _ , Jane thinks. OK, so the bicorns have two horns growing side-by-side, framing their bushy forelocks, and the tricorns look a bit like the mammalian version of a triceratops, but _still_. It’s close enough to a unicorn, right?

Jane has to wonder aloud at how remarkably similar these animals are to Earth horses, at which point Da’ia informs her that the original horses were brought over from Midgard, and then bred to local animals to yield the first bicorns, and later careful breeding the tricorns and alicorns. _More proof that elves did visit Earth in the past…I guess that explains how the ‘pointy-eared’ thing made it into Earth lore about elves. It’s no coincidence._

Just being close to such unique animals would already have been incredible enough for Jane, but then Da'ia murmurs to the horses in an unusual sing-song language and rubs their noses, and then she leads two of the bat-winged alicorns away.

She returns a few minutes later with them saddled, introduces them as Zei’ru and Mai’tet, and holds out the reins with a smile to Loki…and Jane!  

Jane gulps hard and hesitates. _They don’t actually expect me to ride a flying horse, right? That’s going to be a_ long _way to fall._ Mai’tet snorts and nudges her with his nose (fortunately hornless) as if he can tell what she’s thinking. While these horses seem placid enough, Jane's only experience riding has been on Asgard, and that maybe a handful of times. While sitting behind another rider.

Riding solo? Not so much. Riding solo on a _flying_ horse? _Double_ not so much.

"Um, thanks for the offer, but no," she protests. "I'd love to, but...I like staying alive more," she adds with a nervous laugh and a sideways glance at Loki, worried now about offending their hosts.

"Midgardians have grown out of the habit of riding their own such animals. At the present time they generally ride in great metal wheeled beasts," Loki explains to Da'ia. 

"Yes, I have heard tell of those conveyances. Still, such a lack of experience is remedied easily enough," Da'ia counters with a broad grin and a quick gesture of respect to them both. She leads both mounts away again, and this time when she returns Mai’tet is unsaddled, galloping off to join the others frolicking in the long grasses. Zei’ru, the larger of the two, trots calmly at the she-elf’s heel, now wearing a saddle that is obviously engineered to carry two riders.

“I still don’t know about this,” Jane whispers to Loki, scratching the alicorn’s nose to buy herself some time as Da’ia steps back to give them room.

“It’s a child’s saddle,” Loki explains. “The Light Elves use it to teach their children to ride alicorns. You have little to fear.” Before Jane has the time to object further Loki lifts her into the front part of the saddle. "Courage, my Jane," he says in a low voice as she clutches at his forearms with anxious fingers, "You who destroyed the beast Thanos, what is a mere romp through the sky to such as you?" Amusement glimmers far back in the depths of his eyes.

Jane frowns and glares at him - _C'mon,_ really _?_ – but he shows no signs of relenting, so with a huff she allows him to settle her in the saddle. He guides her feet to the first set of stirrups, adjusting them to her shorter height, and then he attaches a wide leather band around her waist, securing her in place. Then he practically leaps into the saddle behind her, reaching past her to take the reins. No ‘seatbelt’ for him, she notices with an annoyed grind of her teeth. He inclines his head regally to Da'ia and then clucks his tongue at their mount. 

Zei’ru launches himself forward, galloping across the field. Powerful muscles bunch under her and she has to bite her tongue hard not to shriek and startle the big stallion as he leaps into the air. She settles for grabbing the animal’s mane in a death grip as they rise through the air, though they soon level out and begin to wheel around in a slow, gliding circle. The clouded edge of the city drops away beneath them and the majestic landscape of mountains and trees is revealed below.

Jane grips even tighter to the alicorn's mane despite the cramping beginning in her fingers, feeling the alicorn’s muscles continue to squeeze and release underneath her thighs. Wings beat rhythmically behind her and the icy wind nips at her face, stinging until Loki mutters something behind her and the air around them warms to a more comfortable temperature.

She feels his breath tickle her ear. "Are you well, Jane?"

Turning to look back over her shoulder at him, and now grinning so much her jaw aches, she answers: "Am I 'well'? I'm flying on the back of a freakin' unicorn on an alien planet - I'm _AWESOME_!"

"An alicorn," Loki corrects her, smiling tolerantly. "I knew this would excite you in the end, my fierce little Valkyrie." Jane just giggles, shakes her head, and goes back to admiring the jaw-dropping view. And occasionally she stops to marvel at just how far she’s come from her makeshift lab in dusty, isolated Puente Antiguo.

*~*~*

In all they spend ten days on Alfheim, at least according to Jane’s watch, though the days are longer on Alfheim by six hours compared to Earth days.

But now, after a variety of truly amazing sights, sounds, tastes and smells, as well as after a final farewell dinner with Queen and Consort (during which Jane had done her best to describe the Stark-Foster portal saga and its science to them), Loki informs her that it's time to move on, particularly if she intends to stick to her 'schedule'. 

He offers for at least the fifth time to buy Zei’ru and have him brought to Earth, but Jane refuses each time. “Fury and SHIELD will have a collective aneurysm,” Jane tells Loki, though he doesn’t seem to think this is a worthwhile excuse at all.

Back on the forest floor, Jane takes a last lingering look across the pool they visited when first arriving on Alfheim. She tosses a few final crumbs to the bird-fishes, wishing she'd never told Fury and Phil (and Tony) that she'd be gone only two months or so on honeymoon. _But we can always come back, right? Well, once Loki is released from ‘house arrest’ on Earth anyway. But let’s get real, it’ll probably take me_ years _just to process all this!_

There’s also the thrill of the unknown, calling to her.

So she dusts off her hands and follows Loki to the spot where they first set foot on Alfheim, where the end (beginning?) of his natural pathway between the stars lies. 

“Where shall we journey to next, my love?” he asks.

Jane thinks back to the images of the ‘Realms’ he first showed her in the desert back on Earth. Asgard? Jotunheim? Home? She shakes her head minutely _. I’ve seen the Light Elves and their wonderful home, I suppose it’s only fitting that we visit the flip-side next._

Decision made, she looks up at him and smiles. "Let's see the planet of the Dark Elves next." 

*~*~*

This time when the white light of the natural ‘bridge’ fades away, Jane is left in utter and complete darkness. It’s also hot and stuffy in a way that immediately makes her feel suffocated.

She’s damned glad she can still feel Loki’s hand in hers, otherwise-

Jane may not be able to see him, but she feels him shift next to her, and soon after a globe of pale white light blooms above and in front of them, startling her at first. Her eyes adjust quickly to the improvised light, taking in the craggy stone walls around them. “What the-?” Her voice echoes strangely.

“We seem to be within a cave,” Loki states. “There are many on the surface of Svartalfheim.” He releases her hand, taking a few steps away to examine one end of the high-ceilinged tunnel they are standing in. Then he passes her to assess the other end. “Come,” he says at last, holding a hand out to her, the globe of light moving to trail after them. “This is the way to the surface.”

“How can you tell?” she asks, trotting to keep up with his longer stride. “Magic?”

He smirks down at her. “Not anything nearly so esoteric. The air this way is slightly less stale. Well, for Svartalfheim.”

The cave walls around them are formed of rock mottled in black and grey, threaded here and there with thin veins of white. The occasional stalactite and stalagmite stab their way into their path from time to time, forcing Loki and Jane to weave around them.

After what Jane thinks might be five minutes, the tunnel begins to slope sharply upwards, and Jane abandons any other questions she might have asked, clutching Loki’s hand in a death-grip to maintain her balance as small rocks and bits of gravel slip beneath the soles of her sneakers. At some point she notices there’s light in front of them now, though Loki’s magical floating lightbulb is far brighter.

The ground banks even more steeply and Jane has to grab at Loki’s elbow. But after a few steps the tunnel levels out again and she can see the mouth of the cave in front of them, and beyond that, a cloud-covered sky.

A little ledge outside the cave is where they pause, Jane taking the opportunity to catch her breath and look around. It’s not much cooler out here, so Jane shrugs off her hoodie, Loki helpfully making it disappear into his Interdimensional Closet as Jane studies the landscape.

She remembers the (ugly, if the truth be told) dark grey clouds from the vision Loki showed her, and here they are again, filling the sky as far as the eye can see. Which is a shame, because they are backlit by a gorgeous golden light. Once in a while, when a couple of the clouds drift slightly apart, a shaft of pure golden yellow light pierces down to the rocky ground. _It would be a beautiful day, if only the clouds weren’t so thick!_ Jane laments.

“Behold Svartalfheim, former home of the Dark Elves,” Loki intones gravely from behind her. 

Jane shakes her head. _Talk about polar opposites! Alfheim, so full of life and light, and this place, so grey and gloomy and…_ dead. Far off, Jane hears the rumble of thunder, and a hot, stale wind whips at the ends of her hair. It’s pretty warm on this planet. “Yeah, I see what you meant earlier. This place isn’t all that hospitable, is it?” 

“No, it is not,” he agrees, appearing at her elbow. “No life of any kind flourishes here, not since the last Great War. Such was the high cost of the Dark Elves’ hatred of light.” He motions with his chin at the ominous clouds.

Jane blinks. “What? You mean, they did _that_?” 

“Indeed. Their magic and their will filled the heavens, until there was no region on the globe where the sunlight would fall unimpeded.”

“Jesus,” Jane mutters, shaking her head again and wrapping her arms around herself against a shudder. “Guess I won’t be doing much star-gazing here.”

“I will aid you in that regard,” Loki promises. “I can, for a time, open a hole in the cloud-cover if you so wish. I wager there will be little else here to interest you, other than the stars. And perhaps the ruins.”

“Ruins?” she asks.

“Of their underground cities, and of the ships they used to cross between Realms,” Loki clarifies, and Jane’s eyes widen in shock. 

“Wait, you mean _star_ ships?” she asks incredulously. For all the technology Jane had seen on Alfheim, there had been no starships. Not that they’d needed them however, considering their portal ‘technology’ (or magic, or whatever it    
was).

“Correct. They did not employ Bifrösts as Asgard and Alfheim do. In that way, the Dark Elves were not so different than Midgard. Would you like to see what remains of those ships? Even long past their prime, I expect you will find them fairly fascinating.”

“Yes, please,” Jane agrees readily enough. They’re here, so they may as well see the sights. _Such as they are, anyway._

Loki closes his eyes, plainly concentrating, and after a few moments he reaches for her hand. The world around them whites out in a way that has become completely familiar to her as he teleports them away.

The next thing Jane knows, they’re standing in a wide canyon with dark, jagged cliffs rising on either side of them. The ground beneath the soles of Jane’s sneakers is a mix of black gravel and dusty grey sand, heat rising from it to warm the soles of her feet through her sneakers. Massive rusting hulks litter the ground as far as the eye can see. 

It’s only once they approach the first one that Jane realizes what she’s actually looking at. Her mouth falls open as she stares around at the crumbled tangles of metal. “Holy-”

A few of the ships’ sections are at least partially whole, enough of them that Jane can get a general idea just how huge these ships were in their day. _They were tall enough to rival some of our skyscrapers_ , she thinks in awe. 

She moves towards the nearest almost-whole-looking section. She has to pick her way carefully (well, she does after the _second_ time she trips over some debris anyway) through the metal and the sharp rocks that litter the ground, her feet sinking into the sand at every step. Loki trails silently after her.

It’s a long tubular section she’s aiming for, though Jane pauses by a ragged    
tear in its side to glance back anxiously at Loki. He nods and conjures another ball of light, speeding it ahead of her to illuminate the way. 

Jane squeezes herself carefully past the jagged edges of the hole, nearly catching her jeans on one particularly sharp twist of metal, though of course Loki slips in behind her as easily as water poured into a glass. She really envies his lack of clumsiness sometimes.

It’s even hotter and stuffier in here, and Jane feels sweat beading on her brow and starting to dampen the underarms of her tee shirt. But she’s too enthralled by the sheer, well, _alienness_ of the ship to dwell on these discomforts.

They’re in some kind of corridor, the grimy black walls lined with pipes and wires, though time has eaten holes in most everything. Jane quickly gets her camera and a notepad from Loki, and after taking a few pictures she begins to move down the tube, following the drifting ball of light.

After what feels like a _long_ walk the hallway opens out into some kind of control room. It’s also coloured entirely in black, at least as much as Jane can tell under its coating of dust and dirt. “Gee, more black. They sure took this whole ‘Dark’ Elf thing seriously,” she comments to Loki, who smirks faintly in return. The walls are lined with consoles, and when Jane steps nearer to examine them closely, she sees that the large buttons are marked with arcane symbols. They look fairly similar to the letters Jane has seen on Alfheim. 

Too curious for her own good, Jane brushes the dust from one set of buttons and presses a few experimentally. But nothing happens. _It’s probably for the best, knowing my luck._

Loki is waiting at the other end of the room, directly opposite to where they first came in, so after snapping a few more photos and jotting some notes for herself, Jane joins him. They walk down another, shorter corridor.

Jane covers her mouth with her hand, eyes wide, as the hallway ends in a chamber as large as a stadium. It’s lined with structures that look like open pairs of jaws to Jane, and within many of them she can see…. _Oh my God, those aren’t…are those_ legs _?_

Something brushes against her back and she flinches, but of course it’s only Loki as he moves to her side, his boots raising a cloud of dust from the thick layer on the floor. He reaches for her hand as he nonchalantly scans the room, obviously far less bothered by the tableau in front of them than Jane is. “The Dark Elves would enter a deep slumber during their longer voyages between the stars, or so the tales tell us.” he explains, his words echoing unsettlingly in the cavernous room. He tugs her hand gently, leading them towards one of the sleeping pods, or whatever it is.

“You’ve seen the inside of one of these ships before, I take it?” Jane asks, her voice hushed as she follows him.

“Yes,” he replies, though his tone is distant. “Fath- _Odin_ thought it wise to bring Thor and I here when we were but children, to exhibit to us the high cost that war can bring.” Here he looks over his shoulder at her, though his smile seems so bitter to Jane. “A lesson sadly lost on Thor; always was he eager to court battle in his youth. At least before he fell to Midgard.”

“If he hadn’t been like that, we probably would never even have met,” Jane points out as she speeds up her steps to walk beside him, squeezing his hand to punctuate her point. 

His smile is more genuine now. “A fair point, esteemed wife.” He stops and half-turns towards her as he raises her hand to his lips, his eyes glittering in the pale light of his magic ‘bulb’. Then he turns and continues on his path.

Jane trails reluctantly after him, gripping his fingers tightly. The dust rises again as their feet scuff against the floor, whitening the legs of Jane’s jeans.

She’s not sure she really wants to see this. 

Mercifully a jointed helmet of some kind covers the face of the withered, mummified form hanging inside the pod. That’s just fine with her; the remains of the hands she can see are bad enough. Out of a sense of duty she snaps a few more photos, but that’s all she has the stomach for.

She wonders how Loki can be so casual about all this, but then a second later she mentally kicks herself. _Of course it’s no big deal. He’s a warrior, right? How many times has he dealt out death, let alone_ seen _it?_

To distract herself, Jane permits her eyes to trace over the myriad wires that feed into the frame the armoured body is dangling from. She shakes her head. So much technology, so much _knowledge_ , and…it hadn’t stopped this race of obviously advanced beings from war and ultimately, extinction.

_ Then again, is that so different from us humans? _

It’s not a comfortable thought. Jane shakes her head and turns to Loki. “What happened, exactly?” 

Loki gives her the highlights of the battle which had led to this endless field of ruined spaceships. The Convergence. The Aether. Odin’s father Bor. Malekith ordering his ships to crash down on the Asgardian armies. The Aether being hidden away, and its location never recorded.

“Ironically enough,” Loki finishes, his voice low, “the time of the Convergence approaches once again.” 

Jane blinks, a slow curl of excitement inside her lifting her grey mood for a moment. “It is?”

“Yes. To my knowledge, Dr. Selvig is already studying it. Perhaps when we return to Midgard, you will consider taking some time from your Bifröst work to study it as well. It is a _very_ rare phenomenon, occurring only once every five thousand years. Even among immortals, that is a long time to wait for the next such event. For a mortal like yourself…” His words trail off and his brow creases slightly as he eyes her, though whatever he was about to say, Jane doesn’t find out. He drags her into the circle of his arms and presses a hot kiss to her lips.

The dust puffs up around them again, drifting up in a cloud that reaches nearly as high as her waist, and it’s then that Jane realizes the completely horrible truth: This dust is probably made up mostly of dead Dark Elf skin cells.

_ Oh my God, get me out of here! _

As if he can read her mind, Loki chooses that moment to ask: “Have you seen enough, my love? I for one find myself tired of darkness and destruction for the time being.”

“Yes, _please_. Let’s see….something else. _Anything_ else.”

*~*~*

They teleport to a few other places. First Loki shows her some of the more impressive parts of Svartalfheim, namely a massive chain of mountains to rival even those on Alfheim. There are also deep canyons, which he tells her once were home to waterfalls and deep rivers, though now these places are long dry.

There’s a kind of austere beauty to the place, Jane decides in one of her more charitable moments, though mostly she finds herself feeling rather…depressed by it all. She puts on a stoic face for Loki, however. He’d warned her some of the planets they would visit were ‘uncivilized’, as he’d put it _. So I really shouldn’t have expected that every place would be full of rainbows and unicorns. Even if Alfheim basically_ was _like that!_

After several hours the shafts of golden light struggling to pierce the blanket of cloud begin to dim, and a dusty, warm wind starts to swirl around the plateau of black rock they stopped to have a picnic supper on.

The food (Alfheim leftovers) and Asgardian ale had been conjured from Loki’s Interdimensional Closet, and a few domes of magical light sit on the ground around Jane, illuminating the area.

As Jane finishes her ale however, Loki extinguishes nearly all of the lights before, as he promised, he coaxes a hole to open up in the mass of ominous-looking clouds above their heads.

The skyscape, or what Jane can see of it anyway, is as astounding as it was on Alfheim. She recognizes not a single constellation that she would normally see from Earth, and she doesn’t see anything she remembers from the skies of Alfheim or Asgard either. 

A band of asteroids obscures part of the sky, and far-off (though close by Earth standards) Jane can see a pale planet (Loki informs her it is indeed a planet, though uninhabited as far as he knows), and of course numerous stars. She sketches out everything as best she can in her notebook, also taking some stills and videos, as well as readings with some of her other equipment to study later, working until her eyes blur and her fingers are aching around the barrel of her favourite pen.

This turns out to be good timing; thunder begins to rumble again off to Jane’s left, and when she glances that way she sees a huge column of sand and dust bearing down on them. She scrambles to put her equipment away though Loki as usual isn’t fazed at all. First he makes all her cameras and notebooks disappear, and then, taking her hand, he makes _them_ disappear. 

When the aftereffects of the light from their teleporting are out of her eyes, Jane realizes they’re in a cave again. Wind and sand are roaring into the cave’s mouth, but a quick spell from Loki first pushes the airborne particles back outside, and then prevents the wind and dirt from coming past the cave entrance again.

Still, when Jane looks down at herself she realizes she’s covered head-to-sneakers in a fine layer of grey sand. Or is it leftovers from their earlier visit to the ‘Tomb of the Mummy Elves’? Jane shivers and decides it’s better not to know.

Trying to brush the dust off proves easier said than done, and though Loki chuckles at her fruitless efforts his armour doesn’t look much cleaner. After a few seconds of letting her struggle, another spell cleans them both off. _I am_ so _getting him to clean the apartment and lab with magic when we get home,_ Jane thinks with amusement.

It’s oppressively warm in here so they don’t really need a fire, but Loki conjures a green-hued smokeless (and fuel-less!) one anyway in the center of the cave to give them some light. Jane seats herself on one of the smoother sections of the cave floor as he does so, shrugging out of her sweaty button-down shirt with relief. Loki stalks the perimeter of their temporary home, disappearing into the shadows at the back of the cave for a few minutes, then returning to sit at her side.

“I thought you said there’s nothing alive on this planet anymore,” she says, wondering at his sudden need to be on guard.

Loki shrugs as he loops an arm around her waist. “Nothing to my knowledge, but as you’ve seen Asgard is not the only Realm with the capacity to travel between the stars. It is always possible that other visitors might be here, and not all of them may be as friendly as one might wish.”

The inevitable thought occurs to her, and Jane can’t stop herself from blurting it out: “You mean one of Thanos’ allies?”

He tilts his head towards her in reluctant acknowledgement. “Sadly, it is possible. Though Heimdall has not seen any sign of such beings, nor have any of the other Realms reported as much, I generally prefer to be prudent. And,” he adds after a second or two, “it is also possible that I have, in the past, made some enemies among the Nine Realms.” Though he sounds contrite, the corner of his mouth is quirking in a way that Jane is all too familiar with.

“Noooo,” she breathes, smirking back at him, “ _You_? The ‘God of Mischief’ making enemies? Not possible!”

He chuckles and the hand on her waist begins to trace little patterns on her side through her t-shirt. “Alas, I can only blame the folly of youth.”

“Ha!” Jane scoffs, wheeling until she’s straddling his lap. She laces her fingers through his sleek hair, tugging lightly. “Youth, my _ass_.”

One of his eyebrows lifts incrementally higher. “That is indeed a part of your body that I entirely enjoy, my love.” So saying, his hands attempt to curl around the body part in question.

“Nuh-uh,” Jane scolds him, slapping his hands away (and he lets her). “Don’t you change the subject or try to distract me, Loki. You’ve been a bad boy, and I think you need to be taught a _lesson_.” Warmth births itself low in her belly as she grinds herself down into his lap, fully aware of the bulge forming within those sinfully tight leather pants of his.

His other eyebrow now joins the first. “And you presume yourself to be the one to do so, _little_ wife?” he drawls. “Such hubris,” he suggests, a dangerous light now flickering in his eyes though Jane doesn’t let that stop her.

“Damn right. And don’t call me _little_ ,” she snaps mock-angrily. She’s enjoying this. “Those inescapable magic-blocking cuffs of yours, I want them. Now.”

His mouth twitches as though he’s trying to hide a grin as he motions with one hand. The items in question materialize in mid-air then clunk into the dusty floor of the cave, glinting in the firelight.

Jane stretches to snag them, deliberately ignoring how Loki helpfully grabs for her hips to keep her from tumbling off his lap. She wriggles out of his grasp and stands in front of him, glaring. “Get that damned armour off. Don’t make me tell you twice, Loki of Asgard.”

He rises to his feet slowly, fluid as a hunter about to pounce on its prey, showing his teeth. But he does nothing but follow her order, if as slowly as humanly (god-ly?) possible. 

One bracer hits the ground, then the other. Then the greaves, followed by a few more bits of metal. Then his surcoat, tunic and shirt, all leisurely shrugged over shoulders and arms to pool on the ground between them.

“Faster,” Jane barks at that point, getting impatient with him. _I should’ve known better. Of course he’s going to try to push as many buttons of mine as he can, whenever he can. That’s_ him, she reminds herself. 

“As you command, fairest of wives,” he lilts, looking up at her from under sooty lashes as he bends gracefully to kiss her hand. Jane firms her mouth to keep from laughing at him, crossing her arms and continuing to glower until he is finally, gloriously naked in front of her. 

“Turn around,” she growls and he smirks but obeys, putting his wrists behind his back before she can ask. It’s not quite what she once promised him; that she would tie him to a bed and tease him the way he’s teased her countless times, but it will do right now. 

Securing the cuffs around his wrists, Jane plans her next step. _OK, so we need something to lie down on._ In one corner of the cave is the thick blanket, a dark green edged with gold embroidery, which they had their picnic supper on. _Perfect._ Jane stoops to collect the crumpled folds, shaking it out and spreading it on the smoothest part of the cave floor she can find.

She orders Loki to lie down on it, watching him closely as he complies. Her mouth goes dry and the rising tension inside her goes up another notch, as she appreciates once again just how exquisitely beautiful he is. The firelight slides lovingly over pale skin and lean muscle, highlighting every flex and curve as he lowers himself down onto the blanket, his motions graceful in spite of his bound arms.

Jane takes a deep breath, reminding herself that it’s OK to take her time and let him wait while she works out her next move. Briefly she debates whether to strip down herself. _Not yet,_ she decides after a few moments’ consideration.

Now it’s Loki who seems impatient. He licks his lips, slowly and deliberately, a hungry light in his eyes as his gaze tracks over her form from toe to top. He’s _very_ aroused, and definitely eager for things to progress. “Is this to be my punishment, Jane Foster of Midgard? To lay here and wait all night on your pleasure?” he asks in a low, hoarse-edged voice.

Moistening her own lips, she makes a decision at last. Walking to his right side as nonchalantly as she can, she drops to her knees on the blanket with a lot less grace than he just did. Doing her best to hide her smirk she bends over him, allowing the tips of her hair to drag across his chest and fall over his face as she leans to his ear. “No. But I _am_ going to tease you like you always tease me. Until you beg _me_.” He’s certainly played that card enough times with her. Time for payback.

He chortles, his breaths puffing strands of her hair off his mouth. “Making a God beg? An ambitious plan indeed. But then, you mortals so often overreach yourselves.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “Just for that I’m blindfolding you, too. Scarf.” She sits up and holds out a hand, fixing him with the most steely-eyed glare she has. He narrows his eyes at her instead, so Jane narrows hers back, a battle of wills that she’s sure she’s ultimately going to win, because he so obviously wants this. 

His cock twitched when she said ‘scarf’, after all.

Jane’s just starting to think she’s utterly misreading him, when the item of clothing in question pops into existence – right over her head. It unfurls over her face and shoulders, startling her, and when she bats the gossamer fabric aside – it’s also dark green patterned with gold, of course – it’s to see Loki’s mischievous grin. 

“You are such a brat,” she informs him haughtily, bending over him to wrap the scarf over his eyes. “I think you _want_ to be punished.” He snorts at this but Jane chooses to ignore it in favour of pressing a quick kiss to that thin-lipped mouth.

Their tongues twist sensuously around each other, until Jane breaks the kiss in a bid for oxygen. She sits back on her heels once more, letting him wait as she catches her breath, letting him guess what’s coming next. Maybe it’s hotter in here, or maybe it’s just her, but either way she shrugs off her button-down shirt as quietly as she can. 

Borrowing ideas from some of the ways he’s teased her in the past, she shifts to hover over him on all fours, allowing her hair to spill onto his chest once more. He takes in a breath, sharp and quick, which only urges her to move her head. Slowly, lazily, she trails the strands across his pectorals, his shoulders and neck. 

_ Is he breathing a little faster now? Good. _ Smirking to herself, Jane slides down his body, just a little lower. She tries to avoid brushing against the throbbing pillar of cock that she can see if she looks down between her own legs. _Not yet. Not so fast._ For now it’s too entertaining to drag the ends of her hair down his belly, swishing them idly from side-to-side, watching his muscles bunch. _How the hell does a Frost Giant put out that much body heat?_

She’s learned enough from the master (him) to know to draw everything out as much as possible. So after a few moments she slips even lower down, straddling his feet. Jane has to curl her fingers in the soft blanket to resist the urge to stroke his skin, the temptation to touch and enjoy the hard planes of muscle in his legs. Deep inside her own body, a pulsing heat is building, but she sets that aside for now.

_ Not yet _ , she repeats to herself, only letting her hair caress him still, drawing it along his left thigh. Then across his knee, calf, and down all the way to his foot, though by then she’s been forced to back off not just his body, but onto the rocky cave floor.

It’s just for a second or four, again making him _wait_. Then Jane crawls forward, picking her way carefully with hands and knees as she drapes her hair over his other leg, moving that tickly touch up from foot to knee, and from knee on up. There she stops, hair pooled in the crease between his leg and his torso, mere inches from his straining length. “So you ready to beg yet, _little_ God?” she asks insolently. 

His answering laugh sounds like a growl. “I have endured many tortures and many wounds, and most were gained in battles that were waged _eons_ before your birth. If you think so little can break me, you are sadly mistaken, Midgardian.”

“Oh really? Well we’ll see about that,” she purrs, a grin curving her mouth as a thoroughly evil idea suddenly occurs to her. It’s not something she’s ever done to him before, or hell, ever even _considere_ d doing to him or to any of the few other men she’s dated. _But why not try it? It might even surprise the ‘God of Mischief’._

But she’ll get to that soon enough. Payback first, right? She repeats the same pattern again; the tips of her hair inched slowly down one leg to his foot, pause, then up the other leg, repeat, all while skipping the far more sensitive area. Jane does that three times, and the whole time Loki does nothing but lie there and breathe harshly, occasionally twitching. Jane can’t see his hands, trapped as they are beneath him by the cuffs, but she can imagine them clenching tight. That’s what _she’d_ be doing in his position, she’s sure.

_ Time for a new trick. _ She stops again, waiting, letting the quiet of the cave seep into her bones. Just when Loki opens his mouth, no doubt to snark at her, Jane finally dips her head and permits her hair to spill over his reddened shaft. He arches up, a gasp squeezed out between his teeth, and Jane has to smile. At last, a _reaction_.

She draws the ends of her hair as lightly as possible over the swollen head, encouraged by the evidence of his arousal beading on the tip, then down the hard shaft to finish trailing the strands over the tight sack of his balls. 

Once again she repeats this three times, though on the last go-round she can’t stand it any longer. She needs to taste him, if only for a second, so she licks a wet stripe along his cock from bottom to top, savouring the salty tang of his skin and the thick veins that pulse under her tongue, even reveling in the bitter flavor of the droplet at the end. Loki bucks upwards as she does this, hissing between his teeth and Jane is tempted to continue, to end this little torture and take him deep in her mouth but…he’s not begging yet and she knows if their positions were reversed he wouldn’t be showing _her_ any mercy.

Jane pulls away to sit back on her heels again, trying to decide the next steps between this and the ‘main event’ that she decided on earlier. 

Loki’s chest is heaving with his rapid breaths, and Jane can’t resist tracing her fingernail in a circle around the areola of his closest nipple. Loki growls again, the sound low and rumbly in his throat as his hips cant upwards again, and Jane grins her satisfaction.

_ OK, this  _ is _fun._ _No wonder he loves doing it to me. It’s times like this I wish I had some magic of my own, because I’d really love to tease him with little snakes the way he’s done to me befor-_

Her eyes widen, one hand going to her neck as another wicked notion pops into her head. _Well why not?_

There’s a little button under the jaw of her new snake necklace that makes it release its own tail from its mouth. _That is_ such _an improvement over the last one,_ Jane notes to herself. Holding the little snake by its head, Jane bends over Loki again. “I don’t have your powers,” she whispers in his ear, “but I bet I can make up for it with a little…creativity.” Then she licks a slow circle around the shell of his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth for good measure.

He does jerk ever so slightly when Jane trails the little enameled snake across the base of his throat. She’s really enjoying this, she realizes, becoming aware for the first time just how _wet_ she’s becoming in response to this whole scenario. She’s definitely coming to appreciate why Loki so loves taking control in the bedroom. _It’s…exhilarating._

She presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat, moving the snake along his collarbone and then down across one sculpted pec. She draws the snake in a slow circle around a nipple, then lower, following the thin trail of hair leading down to Loki’s own particular ‘serpent’.

His hips flex as the little snake slides in a roughly straight line down his shaft. _It is definitely way too fun to give him a taste of his own medicine._ Jane’s only regret is that she can’t change the temperature of the piece of jewelry the way he can. 

She runs the snake up and down a few more times, relishing the ragged sound of his breathing and the quiet growls he’s fighting not to voice. But even winding the snake loosely around his shaft with tormenting slowness doesn’t make him start to beg. 

Giving up on it, Jane winds the necklace back around her neck, working its tail back between the snake’s jaws. She shrugs off her tee-shirt and bra, leaning over him and allowing her nipples to scrape along his body as she studies the other side of the cave and the pile of items there. The heat of his skin against hers threatens to distract her and she bites her lip. _Focus, dammit!_

Besides conjuring the fire for them, Loki had taken a few things out of his Interdimensional Closet earlier. There’s a skin of Asgardian mead, two goblets that appear to be carved out of solid bronze, and a couple neatly-folded furry pelts that she suspects he planned to use as their mattress for the cave floor. Well, she’s got a better idea for one of them right now. 

_ Bet he won’t be expecting this _ \- As quietly as possible she crosses the cave floor to get the pelt, then returns to kneel beside her husband’s right side. _Husband._ It still seems strange, wonderful, and still unbelievable to Jane that this being is her actual real-life husband.

Jane arranges the pelt over her left hand and arm like a sleeve that’s too long for her. Then she waits again, letting his curiosity and anticipation build. She might actually be getting the hang of this. 

After a while Loki licks his lips and opens his mouth, and that’s when she chooses to run the soft fur down his cheek. He greets this with a kind of gasping laugh but she doesn’t stop, moving to stroke the fur down his body, throat to chest to belly, before taking another pregnant pause. Even topless Jane feels too warm now, her heat rising to match his. She’s not sure how long even she wants to make him wait any more.

But a stroking touch along his thigh makes him shudder, and steeling her revolve Jane copies the same pattern from before with her hair. At least until Loki groans and slumps underneath her as if resigned to his fate.

That’s when she grips his aching cock at last with a fur-covered palm. Barking something in what Jane presumes is Old Norse, Loki thrusts violently up into her hand. She can no longer tolerate the answering ache between her own legs, so Jane reaches down with her free hand, rubbing herself through her jeans to relieve some of the pressure. She should’ve taken the time to strip down earlier, but she’s too busy for that right now. 

Jane wants to see if she can make him come apart first.

She fondles him, sometimes softly, tickling him with the fur, and sometimes with a firmer touch, and it’s working; he’s groaning louder, his head rolling from side to side on the blanket as he bites his lip. It’s working, but he’s still not begging. 

She needs to take it up another notch, so her free hand moves from between her thighs to between his. Her nails graze along the taut sack of his balls, and he makes another strangled noise, hips jerking up into her touch. _I think it may be time to blow his mind. I hope, anyway!_ “Ready to say ‘uncle’ yet, Loki?” she taunts him.

Loki’s attempt to snicker comes out as more of a snarl. “I f-fail to see what my m-mother’s or father’s brothers have to do wi-” His words cut off quite enjoyably as Jane changes her touch from stroking his balls to tracing the hot ridge of his perineum. With a loud gasp and another uncontrollable jerk of hips, his thighs spread open to give her more access.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” she teases. His body is begging her, even if his damned pride won’t let him utter the words. Well, Jane’s too curious to see what he’ll do if she moves her hand even lower.

She shakes the fur off her hand so she can grip him tighter, milking his cock as she goes in for the kill at last, delving her other hand further down to massage the tight pucker there.

“Ah!” Loki shouts, and a couple seconds later he climaxes, the jet of sticky fluid coating his chest, belly, and Jane’s hand. She slows, gentling her touch as he convulses and then subsides, his breath whistling in his throat and his ribs heaving, his entire pale form dewed with sweat. He looks utterly gorgeous in the shifting light of the fire.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you liked that,” Jane comments with a smug grin. It’s enough to make the nagging ache in her core totally worth it. She reaches to pull the blindfold carefully from his eyes and he blinks once or twice, his pupils so dilated that his eyes look black. “Release me,” he orders in a rough purr.

“Gee, I don’t know,” Jane declares, smirking down at him. “I think I kinda _like_ you all tied up and at my mercy.”

“Release me, now, or I will show _you_ no mercy,” Loki rasps with a ravenous gleam in his eye, and Jane has to hide a grin. _Sounds promising!_ So when he rolls onto his side she undoes the cuffs immediately, then sits back and waits to see what kind of revenge he’s about to enact on her.

He sits up, still breathing heavily, and motions sharply with his hand. The sticky trails on his body vanish, cleaned away by magic, though those hungry eyes pin her in place the whole time.

Everything blurs for a second and then Jane finds herself on her back on the blanket, Loki stripping her jeans from her with efficient roughness. “I enjoyed that _immensely_ ,” he tells her, voice still pitched to a quiet, feral rasp. “However,” he pulls her panties off with such ferocity that they tear, “I enjoy it just that much more, my Jane, when you are the one begging for my clemency.”

Strong hands shove her thighs apart, pinning her knees to the floor, and Jane has only a split second to notice how cool the cave air feels on her wet folds before Loki’s searingly hot tongue begins to ravage her clit.

It’s her turn to cry out, to arch up against him as he works the little bundle of nerves back and forth between teeth and tongue. She’s been aching so long for his attentions that it’s almost too much to take. His hand leaves her knee to slither up her body and pinch a nipple hard, and it’s almost enough to make her come right then and there.

She’s about to go over the edge when he backs off for a second, and with a snarl of her own Jane decides right then and there that if he’s going to try to make her beg _this_ time, she’s going to smack him across the face, god (and husband) or no god. 

But he pushes two fingers deep inside her, prodding and pushing, and simultaneously the remaining fingers of that hand skate down her slick flesh to tease at _her_ little pucker. He’s more aggressive than she was, pressing in slightly, and her eyes go wide. 

_ Hey, that was my idea! Copycat _ \- she wants to mock him, but it feels just too good and she’s breathing too hard and fast and that tension that’s been winding itself tight inside her since she first sat in his lap is compressing itself into an explosion in the very center of her body and just like that she’s. right. _there_. 

Waves of volcanic heat pulse all over her from head to toe, erasing all ability to think or speak, though she’s fairly certain later that she made some kind of high-pitched, incoherent sound.

She blinks the sweat out of her eyes, whimpering as she feels Loki’s fingers withdraw. But not for long; spasms are still shaking her body as he slides himself into her, hands urgently clamped to her hips.

He thrusts forcefully, that voracious gaze still locked on her face as if he wants to devour her. “Loki,” she gulps as she reaches out to him. He leans into her touch, bending deeper over her and kissing her hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth in time with the demanding shoves of his hips against hers. 

The ground underneath her hipbones is unforgiving through the blanket and Jane’s sure she’ll have bruises on her back tomorrow. Right now however, she can’t care less, particularly once Loki reaches between them and gives her little nub a firm massage, with a finger that’s unexpectedly cold as ice. 

_ OMIGOD _ , is the last lucid thought Jane has before she yelps and climaxes again, clinging to Loki like he’s her only anchor in this flood of sensation. Stars to rival the alien skies she’s seen fire off inside her head, Loki’s uneven breaths filling her ears as his rhythm falters. His hips crash against hers one more time before he growls his release against her neck, his breath a hotspot on her skin.

He collapses on top of her, his weight pressing her down. It’s hard to breathe but she doesn’t really mind, and in any case it’s only for a moment before he rolls off her. His arm wraps around her, tugging her close against his side, pressing their damp skin together once more. 

Jane waits until her breathing and her heart rate have evened out a bit before she untucks her head from under his chin to look into his face and his thoroughly sated smile. “I take it that was good for you?” Jane inquires dryly.

“Oh yesssss,” he purrs happily. “You are quite the quick study, my Jane. Evidently I chose well.”

Jane rolls her eyes and smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Ha! Must be all those advanced degrees I’ve got.”

Chuckling, he gathers all the pelts to press into service as their mattress. He also conjures at least six too many pillows, and a sheet that feels like it is woven of the softest, rarest silk, but despite his efforts Jane’s sleep is uneasy that night. 

Her dreams are full of darkness. Of clouds with a poisonous green tinge, and of creatures with alien armour and mummified limbs dangling row upon row inside rooms large as stadiums. Of something crimson and fluid that screeches faintly and keeps shifting itself so that it stays at the very edges of her peripheral vision.

She dreams of the end of all things.

*~*~*

The next morning Jane remembers little of her dreams, except for a feeling of foreboding. That feeling lingers as they eat a small breakfast of bread cooked over the magic fire, and some leftover fruits from Alfheim. Loki asks her what is troubling her but Jane can’t put it into words just yet, and tells him so. 

They spend the rest of that day, its weather dark and gloomy as the previous one, visiting a few of the ruined cities of Svartalfheim. 

All of them are underground, of course, given the Dark Elves’ hatred of light of any kind. Each city is much the same; the entrance to each barred by a massive gate (which Loki gets them past with a teleportation spell) of some kind of metal twisted into intricate knotwork and decorated by more of those alien symbols. Then there’s a cave tunnel with a paved floor that seems to go on for miles and when it opens up at last, there’s a collection of buildings made of metal, all of them arranged in concentric circles inside caverns so large and smooth-walled that Jane can only conclude that these too were made by the Elves.

Some of these buildings could even be considered skyscrapers, their tops reaching all the way to the high ceilings of the caverns. _They certainly had a thing for building everything tall_ , Jane thinks, remembering the long tubular sections of the spaceships she’d seen yesterday.

Naturally everything is rusted and half-buried in sand, dust, and jumbled rock by the passage of time. Worse are the piles of grey bones scattered here and there, though mercifully not as many as Jane might have expected for a city. Loki explains that it had always been the custom of the Dark Elves that all the able-bodied men, women, and children above a certain age would go to war, leaving only the youngest behind. Jane is no anthropologist, but under the glow of Loki’s magical light the bones do indeed look to be on the small side, and she turns away feeling faintly nauseated. It’s probably better to turn her attention to the Dark Elves’ long defunct technology anyway. 

Some of the nearer structures are single- to three-storey family homes, or homes for small groups of elves, which are also made of metal that’s been moth-eaten by time. 

When they visit one such house, Jane is briefly excited to see all the Elvish computers and displays that line both the walls and many of the table surfaces. She blows the dust off of several banks of buttons to examine the intricate runic symbols, and takes a few pictures and videos of the whole home and of the larger cityscape as well, though her sense of gloom only returns and deepens.

Her mood doesn’t improve even when Loki takes her star-gazing again, this time on the southern half of the planet, so that she can admire the truly massive pale blue nebula that takes up nearly half the sky. Jane takes her notes and her video and picture records, but even this new discovery doesn’t thrill her as much as it usually would. 

It’s only when they are preparing for bed again that night – the last night Jane thinks she can stand on this dead world – when she finally realizes what’s getting her down.

“They were so advanced,” she explains sadly. “They’d achieved spaceflight, and automated so many aspects of their lives. But all that knowledge didn’t stop them from being destructive. And from being destroyed!”

Loki opens his mouth but Jane isn’t done. “But when you look at us humans, we aren’t even _half_ so advanced yet. We’re effectively landlocked on Earth - at least until I can get my portal back up and running anyway - and we’re always fighting amongst ourselves…while these Dark Elves were travelling to other worlds long before we even became the dominant species on the planet! Let’s just say it doesn’t make me feel all that optimistic for the future of the human race.” _There, I said it._

Loki unfolds himself from where he’s been sitting by the fire, coming over to wrap her in his arms. “Midgardians and Dark Elves have much in common, it is true. But that could be said of many of the other races. Each of the Nine, including Asgard, has had its moments of violence and bloodshed. The Dark Elves are only unique in that they never once wavered from their deadly purpose. Had they ever attempted to make peace with the other Realms, I am certain they would yet exist today.”

Jane sighs deeply and leans further into him, breathing in his scent and closing her eyes as he continues: “It is not possible to see the future, even for such as me, but I for one remain hopeful that Midgard will one day join in number with the peaceful Realms. And in any case, there is no use worrying about what may never come to pass.” He puts a hand under her chin, raising her face to his for a kiss. “Perhaps I can find a way to improve your mood?”

*~*~*

_ A+ for effort _ , Jane thinks drowsily two hours later. 

Her sleep, however, is worse than the previous night. She wakes every few hours and stares into the pitch darkness beyond the wavery perimeter cast by the green-hued fire, and she wonders how the future of humanity will turn out.

All in all, she’s more than happy to leave ‘Svartalfheim’ the next morning.  
 


End file.
